Just One More Sin
by AberrantScript
Summary: Lori and Luna have always been good Christian girls, but once puberty strikes they find themselves suffering under their repressed physical urges. One day they can't take it anymore and a single kiss seals their fall from grace. But as they fall deeper into sin, will they keep it contained... or will Lincoln fall with them? A request from Flagg1991.
1. Just One Kiss

**Author's Notes:**

This is a prompt Flagg gave me back in October, I think. (Sadly, you can see how long it's taking me to do requests... sigh.) I love this idea, but I must be honest... if I continue with more chapters there's a real possibility this could go very dark. Yeah... it'll be really hot on the way there, but the endgame could be soul-crushing. I'll put in warnings if they're needed.

Every character unless otherwise noted is Protestant Christian. That will make them OOC from the start, in my opinion, so just bear with me. Christian doctrine will be important, but I will try to not make it confusing. (If I need to explain anything I mention, feel free to ask.) Keep in mind that the entire point to Flagg's prompt is basically for "the Loud girls to be really repressed and they finally give into their sexual urges." As a final mention, Luna's design is based off of her classical version, as done by Alias-Basis, Sketch-toons, Parasomnico, and others.

Disclaimer: _The Loud House_ Copyright Nickelodeon (2018)

* * *

JUST ONE MORE SIN

Chapter 1: Just One Kiss

Hello, dear readers. My name is Lori Loud. And this… is the story of my fall from grace.

I am a Christian; a Protestant, to be specific. Out of all of my sisters, I have always been the most devoted believer in Christ. I am the rock my siblings lean on for support. I am the crutch my parents seek out when they need help.

At our church, I am a youth minister. I teach class on Sunday mornings for the six-to-eight year olds. During morning service, I stand in the front row of the choir and sing with a modest voice. When an elder begins to pray, I bow my head, close my eyes, and keep still.

For casual dress I wear skirts that go below my knees by several inches. I put on loose, flowing shirts _and_ a jacket. I wear stockings that go up to my thighs. The only piece of jewelry I wear is a promise ring upon my third finger; a gift from my parents to be replaced by my future wedding band.

I have never touched a cigarette. I have never drank alcohol. I have never abused a single drug or experimented with marijuana. And I have never touched myself in an impure way.

I have never felt temptation to fall away from God… to do anything sinful… until I experienced hormones. And when I felt that urge to… to touch certain places… I always managed to squash it down. Because they were evil urges.

Perverted.

Sins.

But somedays… temptation hits me _hard_ , a-a-and I'm ashamed to say I… I _almost_ give in. J-just knowing… that I come _close_ to turning my back on my Savior… to plunging myself into the ranks of willful sinners… it becomes too much and… I fall on my face, no matter where I am, and beg until I have no more tears left to give…

For just _one_ more chance at forgiveness.

I am never fully assured of my salvation because of the temptation lying inside my heart. Surely a good Christian doesn't feel such things, right? And so my soul stings from morning to night because these feelings… these urges to fornicate and pervert the virgin temple of my body… are always there.

My eyes see the beauty in men a-a-and even women… forgive me, God… and no matter what I do, my heart speeds up. My body yearns for this to happen… it _needs_ it… it desires it more than air, more than water, more than sleep…

I'm kept awake at night by my haunted dreams of faceless men and roaming fingers and sinful moans…

I can't eat without noticing in harsh detail the texture of milk running down my throat and falling into my belly; the smooth texture of a peach's skin upon my lips; the rounded hardness of a walnut, knowing that a seed lies inside the shell…

I used to take long walks down the street, and I would gaze upon the flowers and the trees, listen to the birdsongs and secret melodies… but now all I can feel is the heat of the sun, the hug of summer's breeze around my shoulders… and all I want is a person's touch.

I have stopped shaking men's hands in church.

I have stopped hugging women in greeting.

I have even stopped kissing the innocent cheeks of my dear students b-because… I'm scared… of what I might do to them… of what my _sinful temptations_ may lead me to do to them.

I live in a big family; with nine sisters and one brother. I share a room with my dearest sister, Leni, but thankfully she gives me privacy most of the time.

Yet, there is one more thing I have not told you.

One person… _knows_.

And I do not mean God.

There is a knock at my door.

Dearest reader, I have a sister that feels just the same as I do. She struggles and can barely contain the feelings deep inside her body.

My trembling hand touches the handle and I turn it.

Soon, my worried blue eyes gaze upon the terrified brown eyes of my sister, Luna, and I move aside to let her in.

We made a pact together months before after she came to me seeking help. But there is not much either of us can do, but pray and hope… hope that when one of us grows weak, the other has the strength to hold her up.

"L-Lori, it's getting worse."

She sits down on Leni's bed with tears in her eyes, her hands fisted on top of her modest, ankle-length skirt.

I go to sit down on my own bed, facing her, and I reach a hand out toward her.

I feel her shiver beneath my touch and I try my best to keep my eyes clear… to keep lust from changing them into a raging ocean of desire… because I can feel that surge of electricity between us, as finger touches finger, as palm caresses palm.

She looks up into my eyes, and I focus on her tears… how they shimmer as they fall down her alabaster cheeks, smudging across her infinite freckles and tender skin.

I feel a deep yearning to touch her face with my free hand, to mold my palm around her jaw and hold her in place… to place my virgin lips upon her parted, breathless mouth until I can no longer think, until I can only feel her heartbeat, her desire, her love…

I see that same longing in the terrified eyes of my sister and I try to smile, to reassure her, but it's weak… it's been getting weaker with each passing day.

"I know, Luna, but we have to keep fighting it."

Her eyes turn to the carpet, and her shoulders heave with a faint sob.

"M-my teacher last Sunday taught us about Calvinism… how we… w-we might be _predestined_ to be how we are…"

Luna's eyes turned back to mine, watery and pink.

"Lori! What if God _made_ us like this? T-to feel these… these sinful urges?"

I neither smile nor frown as my fingers twine with hers.

"You know that's not how we believe, Luna. You can feel it right now, can't you? That desire to just… just lay down against Leni's bed… _to beg me to kiss you_ …"

Luna's breath leaves her lungs as my hand slowly touches her side… as I slowly push her backward until she's lying flat against the pink bedding. My sister has always had long hair, and in this moment it is fanned out, with a purple headband keeping her bangs off her forehead.

My lungs fail to breathe because I am suddenly drunk on her visage… I am intoxicated with the feeling of her hand inside mine, of her ribs beneath my fingers.

I lean over her, my lips descending closer and closer to her panting mouth.

" _But deep down you know this is wrong…_ "

Our eyes meet; hers are flittering and frantic, searching deeply into mine… and my own eyes are immoveable, focused solely on the scared soul I see behind her pupils.

" _Lori, I-I can't keep this up… I… I-I think I'm going t-to sin._ "

I breathe softly, deeply, as her hand squeezes mine, as her free hand grabs onto my shoulder for strength, for support.

I place a knee on the bed. I lean down closer to her.

We can feel our breaths mingling between our lips. I can feel her nose brushing against mine. I can feel her breasts heaving for oxygen as they press into my chest with each desperate inhale.

" _We can't give in, Luna… we can't…_ "

Tears are falling from her eyes again, and I feel the urge to kiss them away. I can barely stop myself from giving in… _barely_.

She gasps and arches her chest into mine; and this causes me to moan at the feeling. It's wrong. It's playing with fire. We should stop. _We must stop._

" _L-Lori… w-what if we just… gave each other a kiss on the cheek… out of sisterly love? Maybe that would quench this…_ " She arches again, curling her body up into mine. "… _this fire I feel inside my body._ "

And I know it is too late. I can feel it. I know those are the words, the passionate plea, that causes my eyes to darken… to fall from Heaven's purest gates… and into the raging fires of Hell.

I nod, and the look on her face is nearly indescribably; full of longing, relief, torment, pain…

She closes her eyes and lays as still as her vibrating body will allow.

And I… I lick my dry lips and stare at that porcelain cheek, perfected by an array of peppery freckles. My sister isn't blemished or tarnished. She is beauty on earth. Her lidded, hazy eyes light my skin ablaze. Her parted, pink lips make my limbs quiver in need. Her thin, brown eyebrows, drawn in worry and fear and desire make me want to soothe her tender body. The wispy curls of her widow's peak long for my nose to brush against them as my lips place sweet kisses upon her forehead. Her body is young, her soul is pure, her heart is pounding like a drum… and in this moment, as she lies under me… one thought strikes through my very core like a javelin pinning me to the wall.

 _Luna is mine._

She shivers as my parted lips exhale against her cheek. She bends beneath me and whimpers as my mouth presses fully, warmly, against her shy, blushing skin.

I pull back and I can feel it coursing through my body.

My eyes are as dark as night.

My body is on fire with lust.

I cannot stop now.

I will never stop.

Luna arches into my body as I kiss her over and over again, slowly moving toward her lips.

When I press against the corner of her mouth, my tongue flicks against her pink skin, and the girl gasps out.

" _Lori!_ "

And I feel a surge of pain and pleasure strike through my chest, down to my very core.

I release her hand to place my palm next to her shoulder. With my other hand I press her body to the bed, keeping her still, unmoving, submissive.

She is looking up at me. Her cheeks are pink, her body is flushed, her mind is swimming and depleted of oxygen.

" _Lori, what are you doing?_ "

I slowly lower my lips toward hers… and once I'm a fraction of an inch above her shocked mouth, and I can feel her terrified heart beating frantically beneath my hand… I utter the simple words that will damn our souls to Hell.

" _Quenching the fire._ "

Our lips melt together like smelted iron in a furnace. Our breasts caress each other as I fall upon her and cling to her body tightly. Our legs tangle in our skirts. Our hearts beat as one flesh.

When I pull back, I no longer see the eyes of my sister.

I see the eyes of my new lover… my co-conspirator… my temptress that led me to sin.

And I know Luna sees the same things in my own eyes.

" _How do you feel now, dear sister?_ " I ask her, breathlessly.

She shakes her head, trying to force oxygen back into her body.

" _I-it's n-not enough. It's still there._ "

I nod once again, my head feeling light and heavy at the same time.

" _Then, we'll keep trying… one step at a time… until it goes away forever._ "

She nods and closes her eyes.

I don't flinch when her hands palm my cheeks… when she guides my lips back down to hers. My eyes close and my leg slips over hers until I find myself straddling her waist. And I am leaning over her with both hands beside her shoulders.

She cannot escape from me, and I am powerless to resist the siren call of her sinful lips.

And we both know that, if we die in this very moment, our souls would be destined for an eternity of torment… but we are powerless to do anything to stop it.

Just one more kiss. _One more!_ And then our journey into sin will be over… and we'll go back to being good Christian girls.

But each kiss only makes us hotter… makes us dizzier… makes us less concerned about the consequences.

When I lean up… when I look down into my sister's darkened eyes… I see in them my new goddess.

When I look upon her pink lips and flushed cheeks… I see my new sacred altar… where I will lay down my heart, my hopes and dreams, and worship.

My hand rakes through her long, silky, brown hair.

" _Luna._ "

It is too late now.

We can never go back.

" _I-I'm sorry._ "

And I don't give her time to question me… to turn away from her sin… before my lips fall upon hers once again, and I remain there as our eyes fill with dreadful tears and our hearts sting with righteous conviction.

When I finally pull away, I throw myself down beside her and close my eyes shut.

My skin crawls and my heart freezes as anxiety threatens to burst my veins and empty my mind into nothingness.

My hand jumps when Luna touches it.

"Lori?"

I can already feel it… I _already_ need to turn over and lay my claim to her lips once again, and I am terrified.

"Yes?"

I can hear her breaths coming in, going out; can feel the anxious twitches in her fingers.

"Will you pray with me?"

A shiver runs down my spine as I clench my eyes tighter. If I pretend hard enough… then, maybe God won't see me… then, maybe my dreams won't be filled with the divine disappointment written across a Man upon the cross as He dies for my sins.

"Y-yes."

I feel my sister shimmy toward me. I feel our hips touch.

She brings my hand over and lays it between her breasts, clasping it between her anxious hands.

I hear her breathless whispers in my ear… I know what it is she is asking for because I had taught her that prayer.

To thank God for His mercy and grace; to ask Him for forgiveness; to plead with Him for strength to fight temptation…

I lose track of time as Luna's shaky grip on my hand never ceases, and her silent prayers grow heated, frantic, and desperate.

When I know she is receiving no comfort from her prayers, I turn and pull her against me. Her sobbing face hides beneath my chin and her heaving breasts press into my ribs as she wraps her arms around me and squeezes for comfort that now _only_ _I_ can provide.

As we lay side by side, I can feel her heart begin racing once again. I feel her breathing change with arousal. I blink my eyes open and hers are there, looking into mine… pleading, begging, crying out for a way to escape the torture wracking her soul.

" _Lori, i-it's still here._ "

I caress her silky hair and tuck her head back under my chin.

" _I know. It's still in me, too._ "

She sobs even harder as her hand grips onto my blouse tightly; the fabric stretches and begins to tear under her nails.

" _What are we gonna do!?_ " she silently screams into my neck.

I sigh because I know there is only one thing we can do now.

I pull her up to me and I look into her haunted eyes.

" _Just one more sin, Luna… just one more a-and maybe the fire will go away._ "

She doesn't take the time to nod; her lips are already on mine.

And no matter how many times we kiss; no matter how tightly we hold each other…

It is not enough.

Our bodies urge us to keep going, but we keep ourselves from crossing another line… _barely_.

But temptation's call is always in our ears now… breathlessly pleading to us with the passionate words of a lover…

 _Just one more, Lori…_

 _Just one more, Luna…_

 _Just one more sin._


	2. Just One Touch

**Author's Notes:**

This has been the single hardest chapter I have ever written. The feeling I get while writing this story is... ironically, indescribable. I have already gotten a PM and some reviews and comments wondering why I'd write this. Honestly, I didn't know if I could... and I know Flagg doubted I would (no offense). If you haven't read _The Fool Devoted to Love,_ then I'd recommend doing so. I just sincerely hope you can still look at me as the same Leni-loving, sex-writing, cute-gushing Abby that I have always been.

Why am I writing this? Because I have a story I want to tell. Honestly, there is likely not a single one of you that will understand all of my choices, all of the details, all of the references that I put in here. There are many times that I had to stop and leave the story for hours to go and reflect. Sigh. I don't really know what I want to say? Take a step back, click on my archive, and scroll through every single thing I have written. And this story... out of them all... is the one I regret the most. It fills me with pain and deepest longing. As I said, it is indescribable. Flagg and Archie, you are two of the greatest writers in this fandom. Two of my inspirations when I began writing in June. But... this story will not be humorous. _If I use your suggestions, they will only be dark_. I can find humor in many things, but what I am writing this from is nothing I laugh at.

As an important note: while these girls are Christians, they are not all settled in their beliefs. If you take two random Christians, from anywhere in the world, and match every single belief of theirs together... you will never find a perfect match. Each of these girls are unique, and that will be very important to this story. As such... do not assume that any single character believes exactly as I do (unless I say so).

Disclaimer: _The Loud House_ Copyright Nickelodeon (2018); _River of Jordan_ by Reno & Smiley and the Tennessee Cutups (1965); _I Won't Have to Cross Jordan Alone_ and _Beg, Steal, or Borrow_ (sources unknown)

* * *

Chapter 2: Just One Touch

I blink my tired eyes open as the smell of coffee reaches my nose. I shake my head to clear the fog in my mind and only struggle a little as I get out of bed.

When my feet touch down on the ground, my nightshirt ruffles around me, and I go to adjust the bra that I wore to sleep in. It's uncomfortable and bites into my skin, but it's ok. I'm used to it at this point.

I go to the mirror first and check my body, my clothes, to make sure I am decent.

I look over at my sister and I smile as she snores from under her blanket, her hair done up in a simple braid just as mine is.

I put on slippers and open my bedroom door, entering the hall. I instantly see my only brother, Lincoln, in pajama pants and a shirt, standing in front of the bathroom door. When his eyes see me, he instantly takes a step back, smiles, and waves a hand in front of himself.

With a small smile, I thank him and take my spot in front of him… standing to the side so I don't, um, accidentally give him something to look at… to tempt him with my body.

I've already brought one sibling down to Hell with me… I _can't_ bring another!

When the bathroom door opens, Lynn and Lucy both step out… and I go to enter, but I pause and call out for Leni.

In this household, water is saved. Sisters do not bathe alone, but in pairs for that very reason. And even though I _know_ I will be tempted, I always pair myself with Leni because… well, the reason should be fairly obvious, right?

If there was anyone in the history of time itself that could never sin, that someone would be Leni.

In retrospect, I know I should have made a pact with Leni… but it was too late for that now. No amount of wishful thinking would ever change my actions… abate the consequences to my sins.

Together, I and Leni enter the bathroom, and we lock the door. We do not face each other as we strip. We do not look at each other, except in the eyes, as we begin washing in the shower.

As the water falls down my hair, across my shoulders, along my breasts and back and legs… I shiver in purest pain. Because I can feel it once again rising up in me. I feel that urge to turn around… to bare myself to Leni… to reach out and touch her hair… to smell her fragrant body… and so, so many other things… _sinful things_.

But I tread it underfoot. I will _not_ bring down another sibling!

I can't!

 _I won't…_

I… hope…

She hums as she rinses her hair and the music fills my ears and my head like the sweetest symphony, lighting my senses on fire. I want to hear her singing other notes… special tunes… as my hands roam her body; as I play her like a fine instrument.

She finishes first and I squeeze my eyes shut so she can dress in privacy.

Soon, my hair is rinsed. Soon, I am dressed. Soon, my hair is brushed down my back, and a simple band is placed in my bangs.

I go to look out the window, but I am too afraid to do so… for an angel may be there, and I _know_ they can sense the anguish inside me… the evil lurking deep in my heart.

My breathing turns frantic; my nails scrape my palms as my fists clench; my eyes threaten to burst with tears.

Then, I force myself to take a single deep breath and utter a simple prayer; a single verse.

My lifeverse:

" _Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest_."

The words fill my tender, sore heart with strength and for one second I feel like I can face my God and my family once again.

Focusing on that fragile feeling, I open the door and behold my ten siblings scurrying around the hall.

My one and only brother is the first one I see, and I cannot bring myself to look into his eyes.

I hurry to the steps, ignoring the worried eyes of my pact-sister. I rush down the steps, but slow as I reach the bottom.

As my foot steps onto the old wooden floor, the bouncy trill of a banjo and an acoustic guitar reaches my ears and a small smile graces my cheeks. As I walk into the kitchen, I see dad's radio on the counter, an empty cassette case laying on top of it. And a smooth baritone voice sings from the speakers:

" _To the River of Jordan my Savior went one day…_ "

My heart clenches in the same moment I feel relief. It is a feeling indescribable… such hope and despair which fills my soul in equal measures.

" _We read that John the Baptist met Him there._ "

I see that mother has prepared a breakfast, so I go to sit at the table… and I wait; never touching my plate, my drink, my silverware. My hands are clasped on top my skirt; my head is bowed.

" _When John baptized Jesus in Jordan's rushing waters…_ "

I close my eyes and pray… I clench my hands and hope…

" _The mighty power of God filled the air._ "

…that just a single drop of Jordan's waters would fall upon me and cleanse me of the filth in my soul.

" _Well, I'm on my way (to the River of Jordan)._ "

I envision myself in sackcloth, with ashes upon my head, stumbling on weak feet to the edge of an endless river.

" _Gonna wade right in (to the rushing waters)!_ "

I shiver as the deep chill of the icy waters scrapes across my barren feet.

" _I'm going down (I'm going down) to the River of Jordan!_ "

I can barely stifle my scream as I am pulled in…

" _And let the cool waters cleanse my soul._ "

I open my eyes and there are tears in them, but I must wipe them away before they are seen.

My soul is not worthy. It will never be worthy. Christ may have died for everyone in the world… but I… I cannot be saved. Not now… _not_ _ever_ …

I flinch when a sister sits down beside me and touches my arm.

My teary eyes turn and are captured by the anxious blues of my oldest sibling, Lori.

" _Luna, are you alright?_ " she whispers so mother and father cannot hear.

I shake my head faintly so only she can know.

I am not alright.

I am sinful.

I am evil.

I… I _deserve_ to die…

She looks at me tenderly and squeezes my arm, and I nearly whine because of the sudden lust that courses through my tired, sore, agonized heart.

This is why Hell was made… for beings such as I… for those that _know_ what they do is wrong, and not only _do_ it… but brings others into sin with them.

I brought my dearest sister, Lori, down to Hell with me… I damned her… with my uncontrolled lust; my weakness; with the evil inside my heart.

" _I'm sorry, Lori…_ " I sob quietly and turn away to look at my hands. I open them and see the faintest hints of blood in my palms.

" _I-it's not your fault, Luna…_ "

I sniffle.

That is not true. It _is_ my fault.

God didn't make me this way…

I took of the fruit of sin myself; and much like Eve, I tempted my sister to join me in my despair.

What kind of monster does that to her own family?

Soon, the family gathers around the table like flowers in the Master's bouquet, and not a soul makes a peep as father's head bows, and his lips part, and he gives thanks to God.

As I sit there I can feel a cage around my heart; each throbbing beat like the painful stab of a knife into my chest. I cannot look up, around, at my family, because they will know. They would see it in my eyes.

In the corner of my eye, I can see that Lori does not look around either.

As two sisters, two lovers, two sinners… we sit and eat and pretend for a handful of minutes that we are still good Christian girls.

* * *

As today is Sunday, we find ourselves in a dusty, small, poorly-lit classroom soon after breakfast. As is the custom of most rural community churches, everyone ten years old and up are bunched together and, despite their vast differences and needs, given the same lesson, the same way, with the same expectations. By this point, I know the lessons by heart since my teacher only uses a quarterly. I sigh and hang my head low.

I am sitting on a rickety bench made for small kids. My knees are _very_ tightly held together, and as an extra precaution, my hands are folded and hang over the bumpy joints. The fact that I wear ankle-length skirts does not matter, and I make no fuss about it.

What I would like to fuss about is that I am sitting between my brother, Lincoln, and my sister, Lucy.

I need Lori. I should be sitting by her. But she has a class that she teaches even though she's only seventeen. Though the church has capable adults, none were willing to do the job, and for weeks the little kids went without… until Lori persuaded the pastor to let her teach them.

Sadly, she does not need help since there are only three children in attendance: my sisters, Lana, Lola, and Lily. Yes, I am aware of the obvious confusion at this point. Why is Lucy not in that class?

I feel a tug on my sleeve and I turn my head to the side, and there is Lucy; an open Bible upon her skirt-clad knees.

Lucy became interested in lessons that weren't taught to kids her age, and the pastor convinced our parents to let her join the teen class. Those interests? Sin. Death. Hell. Prophecy.

" _What do you think about these verses, Luna?_ " she whispers to me.

My eyes skim over it quickly so as not to attract the attention of my teacher, and my heart catches in my throat.

 _Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? …neither fornicators …nor adulterers …shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified…_

My hands tremble on my knees as those words fill my mind.

Once upon a time they comforted me. Because once in a dream _I_ was that… but then, I surrendered my life to God.

O-only… now… I'm not too sure.

" _Luna, what's wrong?_ " Lucy asks me.

And I cannot reply. I can barely stop the sob from wracking my body.

I look up briefly, to see many of my own family in this little room; Luan and Lynn in the corner playing with paper while the teacher isn't looking; Leni humming and bobbing her head side to side, an open study Bible on her lap and a pen at the ready to take notes; and Lincoln on one side of me, twiddling his thumbs, and Lucy staring at me from the other side.

" _I-I'm fine_ ," I croak out.

She hums, and I have the sweet pleasure of dwelling on my sinful state once again… which is no comfort to me.

After class we sit through a service. There are only a dozen others in attendance besides my family; even still, they manage to sing for an hour.

I have always enjoyed music and I dream of the day father will let me learn a simple instrument… but the singing here is repetitive and slow. Many songs I _really_ like… but the way they are done has ruined them for me.

But there is still one thing I enjoy about the choir.

That heavenly voice drifting from the very first row.

I am sitting in the sanctuary, in a pew, and I can see her clearly…

And she… she is looking at me as she sings.

The song they are singing surrounds me with its bittersweet melody.

" _I won't have to cross Jordan alone…_ "

Her sparkling blue eyes; her tender, modest voice, which is the only one I can hear; the soft sway of her body as she moves to the song… it overcomes the pain in my heart for just one second…

" _Jesus died all my sins to atone._ "

My soul crumbles once again. I frown, and I can see Lori's own lips turn downward as she herself realizes what it is she is singing.

" _When the darkness I see… He'll be waiting for me…_ "

My arms circle around my chest as I shiver and quake.

Once upon a time, this song was romantic to me. Once in a dream, it brought tears to my eyes, hope in my bosom, and love for my Savior…

" _I won't have to cross Jordan alone._ "

And now it only fills me with the darkest dread I have ever felt…

Lori's eyes spill their tears in tune with my own.

…because when I cross Jordan into Hell, I won't be alone.

Lori will be there right beside me, hand in hand, before the ashen gates leading into a lake of fire.

* * *

My arms are clenched tightly together.

My feet are dragging across the wooden floor in the hall.

My brown eyes are crying; the tears trail down my cheeks.

I open the door to my room and my sister is sitting on her bed. A radio is on our shared dresser. A song is playing.

" _And can I truly say, that I've done enough today…_ "

My body trembles, from my head to my toes, and I fall to my knees.

"Luna?" My sister stands, worried for me.

" _If today would be the day that Jesus come._ "

I am alone. All alone.

My hands on a hard, unforgiving floor find no peace.

My weeping face, turned downward to hide my shame, is the testament of my guilt.

I feel a hand upon my shoulder and my soul screams out for relief… for death.

" _And if I'm turned away… I'll have no more chance to pray._ "

"Luna, look at me."

And I do. I look up into her hazel eyes. I see her long, swirling ponytail, her thin eyebrows, and the faint freckles on the bridge of her nose. The song, still playing, becomes a distant memory.

My flesh roars inside with sudden desire, and I know right then; right at that very moment.

It doesn't matter anymore.

It wouldn't matter if I had another chance.

No prayer will save me now.

There is no atonement for the sins which I have committed.

For every sin that is done under heaven is against another man…

Except for the one I am guilty. It is the only one which scars my own body; permanently; marks me for eternity as unfaithful to my future spouse… as a perverted being… as a woman which corrupted the natural use of her own body… and even as a seductress, luring others down into Hell with my words of honey, my lips of wine.

As I look into the eyes of my scared sister, Luan, I see the same fear I know I had in days past.

When my hand reaches out to hers, I feel that same electric surge I felt with Lori… I see her eyes shift into confusion… I lick my dry lips with my tongue.

"L-Luna, wh-what's wrong?"

She looks so worried, so timid, so shy… like a lamb in the fold… a-and here in this moment, my ribs ache under the strain of my heart, my shoulders sag with the weight of my mind…

For I know I am the wolf… and my greed has become too great.

And Luan is a lamb too pure, too delicate… too intoxicating… to ignore.

My hand rubs along her arm and my eyes grow wide and teary.

" _Will you pray with me?_ " I plead with a low, off voice.

Her brows crinkle, but she sits down beside me. She closes our door for privacy, and the sound of it shutting only makes my heart beat faster.

" _What do you want to pray about, Luna?_ "

My heart stills as my mind floats back to the surface, fighting against my lust for one fleeting battle.

The outcome was already decided before it began.

" _I-I've been… feeling things._ "

She moves closer to me. She lays a hand on my knee; twines her other hand with mine for support.

" _What have you been feeling?_ "

I look deeper into her eyes. I cannot make out what it is I am seeing; whether fear or curiosity.

" _Fire._ "

Her breath catches as my free hand travels to her side, to her ribs; rubbing her softly through her shirt.

" _L-Luna…_ "

I see her pupils dilating. Her brows are furrowing in worry. Her mouth gasps in shock.

" _What is it, Luan?_ "

She cannot draw her breath for seconds; and soon I find myself leaning toward her, seeking warmth.

Soon, the air returns to her body and her satin lips mold around spoken words.

" _Y-your eyes… they changed._ "

Indeed, they have.

I know they are darker now. No longer the vibrant brown they were in the morning; they are shadows, murky, tarlike... full of fire and brimstone.

We do not pray.

I lay down on the ground and pull her beside me.

We look into each other's eyes as my hand keeps rubbing her side; my other hand squeezes her fingers tighter.

Her breath feels different as it puffs against my chin. It feels hotter… faster.

She is looking deeply into my eyes, searching me out, and… and I can tell they are brown now. No longer a light, whimsical hazel color; they are getting darker… just like mine.

" _Tell me about your feelings, Luna._ "

I wet my lips once again.

" _It's something I can't explain… but I can show you._ "

I see it then. A momentary flicker of debate in her pupils, but it lasts for only a second before it vanishes.

Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips; they're glistening now; I want to kiss them, nip at them… I want to do so much more; so much it's starting to _burn inside me!_

" _Show me, Luna,_ " she breathlessly whispers; her airy words puffing against my lips.

I remember the feeling of Lori laying atop my prone body, and the urge to let Luan feel the same overcomes me.

She gasps as I push her onto her back, as I slip a knee between hers and drape my body across her side.

My elbows rest on the hard wooden floor; my hands touch her flushed cheeks; my eyes look into hers, unblinking, waiting with urgent need…

My eyes close and the sense of touch blooms until it controls my body. It floods my body: with her warmth beneath me; her breasts pressing against me; her lean thigh quivering under my crotch; her hot breaths mixing with my own.

It is already too much and not enough at the same time.

I push forward until my nose bumps into hers. I angle to the side and continue until my lips mold against hers and her gasp fills my open mouth.

My tongue reaches out and licks her upper lip as I slowly pull back.

Her eyes are barely open; they go ahead and close fully as her body begs for air, her legs twitch beneath me, her hands clasp onto my shoulders for strength and support.

" _Luan?_ "

I feel a gnawing worry deep in my chest when she opens her eyes slowly, and they look haunted, scared, _burned_ …

Tears fall down her cheeks as she pulls on my body harshly, crashing our lips together painfully.

I feel her tongue prod my lips and I let it enter.

I feel her thigh arch into me and I gasp into her mouth as her skirt grazes against my very core.

I feel the urge to grind myself on her; an urge I cannot stop.

She pulls back and turns her head to the side to hide her shame.

I look away to hide my own.

" _L-Luna…_ _I'm s-so sorry…_ " she sobs against the floor.

I say nothing. I do not know if she is speaking about my own sin… or her own… If she is truly speaking to her sinful sister… or to the God that is surely looking down on us in disappointment.

" _Hush, dearest one_ ," I whisper into her ear.

She shakes and trembles beneath me in her anguish.

" _I c-c-can't! I-I can feel it now… d-d-down there!_ "

I freeze as she grabs my hand; as she trails it down her white blouse, past her belt, and down her brown skirt. Through her layers of clothing I can feel it… _burning_ … _searing against my very hand!_

I look into her watery eyes and my heart shatters.

She is burning alive; all because of me!

Luan sobs. " _I-I'm on fire. M-m-make it go away…! P-please!_ "

I nod shakily and push my hand against her skirt, and my spine thrills at her shocked gasp.

I hear a thump outside our door and my very soul stops. I look up at the door, scared for my very life.

Luan is still writhing beneath me, and I hurriedly clamp a hand over her lips to silence her whimpering prayers.

I look down at her with terrified eyes, but she returns the gaze with one of purest need. Her eyebrows are drawn in pain, her hips writhe against my body; tears fall from her, each one silently pleading for me to take the sin away from her body… to pull it out with my hand.

I gulp as I press my hand against her crotch again, and her entire body spasms beneath me.

It is a feeling indescribable; seeing her face grimace in agony, feeling her body quake in shock beneath me, hearing her muffled scream through my own hand.

I need to feel her heart against my breast. So, I release her lips and move instantly to claim them with my own.

Her gasps fill my mouth like a toxic venom without an antidote. I can never get enough of them. I am addicted… a slave… to my sister's lust.

She bends beneath me like a rainbow… a covenant, a promise…

Tears fall from my eyes as she falls still, as her eyes slowly dim as the far abates, as her breathing grows steady once again… and she covers her mouth with her hand and wails in dreadful agony.

" _What have I done!?_ " I hear her forsaken plea through her fingers and I close my eyes.

I roll off of her and look at the ceiling, thinking of rainbows… or a covenant to destroy the earth for its sin, not with water, but with _fire_.

What have I done?

 _What have I done to my little sister!?_

Luan crawls to her bed and gets under her sheets and weeps into her hands.

I cannot move as the sound kills me slowly inside.

She moves under the sheets, but the fluttery feeling of cotton makes her tingle and gasp.

" _L-Luna…_ " she pleads to me. " _…i-i-it's back. I can feel it!_ "

I sigh as the heavy weight of our shared sins hangs against my shoulders.

But still, I lean up on my elbow and look at her.

She is scared, frightened, utterly terrified… but she needs me.

I stand on leaden legs and make my way toward her.

If I don't look up… if I don't look at the nightstand where Luan's Bible lies… if I don't look at anything but her stricken eyes… then, I can do this. For her. For me. For Lori.

" _Just one more touch, Luan… a-and maybe the fire will go away._ "

She nods and lets me in beside her.

We never remove our clothes… even though our bodies beg to become naked, to bare our shame and sin to the world's eyes…

But we learn something important as day turns to night…

One more kiss wouldn't help.

One more touch wouldn't help.

We need more.

We ache for more.

We are burning alive, from the inside out, for something… some sin just barely out of our reach.

Hours after night falls, as we lie still side by side, aching with need… there is a knock on the door. There is a gentle creak as it opens and a wisp of snowy hair leans into the room.

No. One kiss will never help. One touch will only stir the coals.

What we need is… just one brother.

 _Just one more sinner._


	3. Just One Dip

**Author's Notes:**

I don't have much to say about this chapter. Just that Flagg gave me this specific prompt ages ago, and I fulfilled it in here... and guess what, Flaggette? You were right. It would literally drive them (me) crazy! :P I also have a fun fact! In the previous chapter, as Luna sits at the table and thinks to herself that her family has gathered like "flowers for the Master's bouquet," that was a reference to a song's title. A song about death.

King69, I want to personally thank you for being a faithful reader. You don't say much, but what you do tends to make me smile. My favorite review of yours was posted to _I Am Not a Pervert!_ (Chapter 2, I think) and I laugh out loud at that every time I see it. I'm glad you enjoy my stories~

RRR, I don't remember if that was part of the conversation when I discussed this with Flagg, but I know that thought crossed my mind at least once.

LL, this story is tough. And I tried to write on other stuff, such as _A Woman After My Own Heart_ , but I can't. This is taking me down certain places better left unspoken, and I might as well write it while I'm here. I am paying extra attention, and every single thing in here is intentional. Part of me is gauging my audience to see how well they might know what is going on. And part of me is putting stuff in here that I want to write about. Other than that, I can't put my feelings into words.

SonAwesome, in my opinion this story will be darker. Others may disagree with me. But if I write... what I think I will write... I will require a brief hiatus.

Hot Sauce, I do remember that prompt. I am not sure if I want to write it, though. I'll give it some thought, but I won't make any promises. Thank you for sharing it with me!

Disclaimer: _The Loud House_ Copyright Nickelodeon (2018); _Heaven_ by Flatt & Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys (1958?)

* * *

Chapter 3: Just One Dip

Hello! My name is Luan Loud and I am (technically speaking) a Christian apologist. Heh. Now, I don't spend my days thinking up sad stories and making apologies, and nonsense like that.

Nope! The greatest skill… the greatest tool… and the greatest weapon an apologist has at their disposal (regardless of their beliefs) is critical thinking. And one of the easiest ways to use critical thinking is to never accept something at face value. Always ask the question "Why?" because there must _always_ be a reason behind truth.

Truth is not truth for the sake of it being truth.

Would the kind reader care to sit through a controversial example? Thank you.

I, Luan Loud, do not believe that macroevolution is truth. Why? Because I asked the question, "Why?" and found the entire belief system to be hanging in the balance… and lacking.

To be fair, I began as a Christian… so if anyone wants to convert me over to "science," then they'd best have a strong argument to support their case.

So, let's start with… why are we here? Because of seemingly random, chaotic, uncontrollable, basically-miraculous mutations of chemicals which somehow created intelligence, life, purpose, and existence…? And through eons of time that mutation macro-evolved into the earliest form of humanity?

Hey, I'm a fair gal. I'll give a debater many liberties. So, let's just roll with it.

Please allow me the same freedom to apply scientific law to this line of thinking. For example, science has proven that intelligence _must come from_ intelligence. It has _never_ been observed to come from _un_ -intelligence. (Think I'm wrong? Then, prove it. I will wait until I die for this proof.)

Another scientific theory is that mutations (by their very definition) always created something _worse_ than the starting product. In some cases those have been beneficial (that is true) but, by definition, that benefit was due to a _loss of genetic data_.

Now, let's look at the time factors. Do we honestly think that this earth… this chaotic, inconstant, ever-changing, psychotic planet… for _billions of years_ was in a state of slow, constant, controlled growth? Ha! We suppose that _everything_ moved at a constant rate that would allow for _nothing chaotic_ which is one of the defining traits of humanity, of this planet, of the very universe itself. It makes no sense. What's more… it _doesn't fit the data_.

But I am fair. I will let them have it. Because I aim _big_ … and by _big_ I do mean that certain popular theory.

I am taught in public school that every bit of matter and energy was cramped in a space roughly equivalent to a marble. And that is all fine and dandy. Sure, perhaps in time something _chaotic_ might happen and that marble would explode with a _bang_ … but where did it come from?

A _very famous_ scientist… everyone knows him… talks through a machine, rides in a motorized wheelchair, extremely intelligent… I have much respect for his brilliance. But even he had to default to an argument _out of necessity_.

See, if you keep asking "Why?" humanity can only go so far back… and then, they always stop.

Tell me I am wrong. Tell me where matter and energy, time and space originated from. Because if you tell me _it always was_ , then I will laugh in your face… because that is _the exact same argument Christians, Jews, and Ancient peoples have used for millennia!_

I am fair, but I have never had a person answer that question differently. They may flatter me with science and philosophy and education and even algorithms… but they can never get past _the origin_ of their origin stories.

Want me to be honest for a moment? Don't tell my parents, but I did give them a chance. For a short time I became an evolutionist. For a short time I became God's enemy, seeking a way to tear Him down and trod Him underfoot.

Because I asked the question, "Why?"

There is an amazing book in the _Star Wars_ universe (Don't laugh at me! With these buck-teeth, braces, and gangly body I'd be _shocked_ if I didn't read something nerdy!) called _Dark Rendezvous_. In one scene (spoiler alert, by the way, oops) Jedi Grand Master Yoda comes to Darth Tyranus and asks him to convert the old master into a Sith Lord. Wanna know the best part? For a few minutes, Yoda _was_ a Sith. He became darkened, power hungry, and filled with rage.

But at the last moment he turned away because the Dark Side could not satisfy the same question that the Light Side could not in all his years of study. Neither could give him the power to create a flower from nothing.

In a similar way, not believing in God does not help me anymore than believing in God. For _both_ require an equal measure of faith in things I can never possibly know.

Wanna know why I am a Christian?

Because it is easier to believe a merciful, omniscient, omnipotent, etc., etc., God created everything… than to believe it just always was for no reason at all. It is easier to believe that an Intelligent Being always was, always is, and always will be… than to take "science" as my god.

I sit back in my goofy, wooden chair and smile pensively because most people will not listen to me. I can already feel it now… their anger, frustration, and disbelief at my own line of thinking. It is really easy to get scared and hide my opinions, feelings, and beliefs… just imagine how long I must have been this way and _no one_ knows I am an apologist.

Not mother. Not father. Not my family.

Not even the dear readers skimming these words.

Sit back and dwell on that for a little bit.

Filled with disgust yet? Shall I keep going?

Someone must want me to keep going, right?

Because I only started this story with that debate to snag emotions… to cause outrage… to garner sympathy… or otherwise to entice (or to pull the tares from the wheat, wink, wink).

This is _not_ a story about me being an apologist.

This is the story of how I became pregnant… and my baby died.

And no amount of sad stories… apologies… or critical thinking… will ever change my history.

* * *

As that door creaks open, the radio starts a new song and Lester Flatt's smooth voice drifts from the speakers like a soothing balm.

" _In childhood I heard of a heaven_."

White hair slips inside. The door closes with a silent thunk.

" _I wondered if it could be true._ "

I lean over my sister, Luna, to see my one and only brother coming toward us; fear is on his face.

" _That there were sweet mansions eternal…_ "

Luna's lungs shake; she vibrates beside me with lust. I can feel it, too. We've been here for hours and it never went away. We are both thinking the same thing in that moment.

 _Please, Lincoln… please go away…_

He keeps walking toward us, and soon we realize he is holding his pillow and stuffed bunny rabbit. He looks so vulnerable. He rubs his wet eyes with a hand and pouts at us quickly.

Our hearts quicken. We know his window of opportunity is swiftly closing. _Please, leave…!_

" _Somewhere up there beyond the blue._ "

He comes to our bed. He looks down on us. His lips quiver.

"I h-had a nightmare…"

I nod my head. We both know of what it was he dreamt. A dark place. A fiery place. A place of which we have all had nightmares… for some of us, even living nightmares.

Luna shivers beside me. Her eyes are clenched shut.

And I know that is where her mind is gone. She is swimming, writhing… trying to get out… but unable to do anything but sink… sink… sink deeper… into the flames.

" _I wondered if people really go there._ "

I was one of those people, but not anymore. I… I am terribly confused over my current feelings, but I _know_ beyond a shadow of doubt… that… I hope… I… I-I would go there i-if I'd die in this very moment.

"Lay down with us, Lincy. Luna had a nightmare, too," I lie, and a sharp pain strikes across my temple. Why did I do that!?

It slips out so naturally… so quickly… I hear Luna's gasp. I feel her hide her burning eyes in my chest. She is trembling; trying to keep herself from turning, from grabbing him, from sinking her demonic claws into his little wrists and pulling him down into this boiling fire in their bodies.

" _Then, one day, sweet Jesus came in._ "

He kneels on our bed before handing me his rabbit.

I look at it. I feel my brother's heat still in its fur. That heat washes over me. I look down at my sister; I see her eyes.

She is looking at me.

And we know… that if he takes one more step closer… he will never go back.

" _And I got a vision of heaven…_ "

I do get a vision… as my brother's smell wafts to my nose, as my eyes trace the soft lines of his boyish face, as his leg brushes mine… when he lies beside me and draws closer… his hand touches my arm, and it burns like a fever in my very blood.

Luna is leaning away from my chest. She is no longer looking at me.

We are both looking at him.

We are both burning alive.

We are both in need.

And one more sinner has stepped into the fold.

He looks at each of us; his tears barely held back. "I-I-I'm scared. I-I don't want to go to Hell!" he cries, throwing himself onto my shoulder.

His pained wails scourge my brain… leads me to pull him to my breast and reassure him… that he has spoken with God, that he does believe in Him, that he _is_ forgiven… but this closeness only makes my body hotter, makes my senses stronger… makes my need unquenchable.

I glance at Luna and see her licking her lips. Her eyes are nearly black.

And in that moment, I know that mine are not far behind hers.

" _My soul through all Heaven I'll spend._ "

I think… I seriously think about what I am about to do… what I am about to let Luna do… about how this will affect Lincoln.

And only a small part of me cares about the consequences.

An apologist can try their best to rationalize this.

Does the Bible truly condemn sibling incest? I… do not honestly know. It is one of those… grey areas… so to speak.

Does the Bible truly condemn premarital sex? Yes. Yes, it does.

But… what if my heart is already married to him… to Luna… to my family?

Is… is it so wrong, then? If I am faithful to them, and only them, in mind, in body, in soul, until the day I die?

I lick my lips.

I will have to think on it.

But there is… an interesting tradition that… a certain sect commonly called "Mormons" believe.

It's an unspeakable act… but… they say that it is not premarital sex b-because no one loses their virginity… no pregnancy is risked… no virtue is corrupted.

Those are… greatly marginalized topics… in the Christian church, keep in mind…

B-but when I feel this fire deep inside my body… it just makes me want to reach out…

I hold him tighter to my breasts.

…toss aside my morals for just one second…

I look him straight in the eyes.

"Luan?"

…and test the boundaries I have set for myself based on a lifetime of devotion to God.

With lidded eyes and a husky voice, " _Don't worry, Lincy. Your big sisters will take your fear away_."

He gasps against my lips as I press our mouths together, softly, tenderly, affectionately.

I feel movement and a hand brushes my cheek… Luna's hand. It is threading through our brother's hair, rubbing his scalp. I open my eyes and see her lips pressing softly into his hair, upon his ear, down the spine of his neck.

He trembles against me. He can barely hold himself up.

I lay back and let him fall atop me.

I… shiver in ecstasy… when I feel his… readiness… pressing into my leg.

Above his head, Luna's eyes are waiting for me… and I don't need to ask her if we should keep going…

The dark, hazy shadow covering her irises speaks louder than any sermon, any hymn, any trumpet of the archangel Gabriel.

" _Heaven (happy home above), Heaven (land of peace and love)-_ "

My mind is screaming for me to stop, for me to keep going, for me to listen to his whimpering cries, for me to ignore his pleas for help… I am lost inside my body, in my lust. Where I am there is no God, there is no cross, there is no atonement… there is just one raging fire… and one brother with an erect penis lying atop me.

I look at my brother and smile. " _Be still, brother. This will take your fears away. I promise_ ," I lie once again. I cannot let myself think about this pure soul I am destroying… because then I might stop and my body may die.

Then again, am I truly destroying him? Or am I showing him the love that God always purposed for him to enjoy? Who am I to say I am not the one God made for him… who am I to speak for God?

I look up at Luna, smiling even warmer. " _Do you remember what Leni told us about Mormons?_ "

Her pupils dilate and she nods.

My smile tilts to one side. My lungs barely breathe.

" _Oh, it makes me feel like travelling on._ "

She leans down to my skirt. She finds the zipper and pulls it slowly.

I clasp my brother's cheeks in my hands.

" _Just look at me, Lincy. Don't look at anything else but my eyes. And feel. Feel my love for you, and let it take your fears far away_."

He nods, his breath shaky, his cheeks blushing.

I pull him down to kiss me.

Luna lifts my hips to remove certain fabric that is still in the way.

He hisses into my open lips as Luna turns her attention to his pants.

" _Luan,_ " he squeaks into my mouth.

" _It's ok. We're your sisters. We love you with our everything,_ " I reassure him before my velvety tongue licks his bottom lip.

His fears are forgotten as he lets me inside his mouth… as his legs become naked to the open air.

Luna pulls a sheet and lays it over our bodies to hide our shame from her own eyes. And she lies down beside me. She reaches a single hand under the cover… and soon I feel my brother freeze up like a pillar of salt.

I pull my lips away, and he is looking into my eyes… he is seeing the fire fall from heaven upon Sodom and Gomorrah… turning my pupils into kindling.

I gasp and hold him close as Luna… as she draws his penis nigh to my vagina.

He is breathing funny… not normal… but not like I and Luna are.

I gasp again as Luna makes her mark, as she pries my sacred lips apart with his crown… and forces just the very tip inside.

My body is screaming. My back arches into his chest. I hide my shameful cheek in his snowy hair as my virgin core is overcome with a sensation it has never felt before.

" _Heaven (supernal), Heaven (eternal)-_ "

Luna leans over me and whispers into my ear, " _Is it enough? Is the fire gone?_ "

I hurriedly shake my head. It is not gone. It is only worse. What started as a bonfire in my loins now feels like lava pooling into my body.

She nods.

I cling to him tighter when I feel it push just a little more. I have no experience. I do not know how deep he is. But it feels so big, so much… I feel complete with him inside me… and there is no possibility I will ever forget the soul-shattering feeling of having him inside my body.

Luna forces him in just a little more, and I feel him bump into something inside me. My eyes grow wide. I look at Luna.

She is looking at me.

" _We need to quench the fire, Luan. This is the only way._ "

I bite my lip.

I love Lincoln with all my heart.

I… I'm prepared to marry him… here and now… and not just because it would rid me of this terrifying feeling bubbling up from my deepest parts. I truly adore him. I adore Luna. I adore my family.

But… I know I am forgetting something…

I shake my head, and her brows furrow… perhaps even in anger. I cannot tell.

I pull back and look into my brother's eyes. I can feel his penis throbbing inside me. I do not know what it means yet. How could I? Does the kind reader think we have been taught anything about sex? Ha!

But he looks terrified… worse than he ever did after dreaming about Hell.

It shatters my soul and tears fall from my eyes.

He pleads with me, " _Please, stop… I don't want this._ "

And I turn my head away.

This is the hardest thing I will ever do…

I push him up until his… his penis slips out… and that's when I feel him release onto my naked groin, upon my white blouse. It is hot, it is boiling, it is warmer than anything I have ever felt before… and I know that it was meant to be inside me. I know _that_ is what my body craves with every pump of blood.

I look into his eyes and he can no longer look at me through the tears.

" _I'm a monster, ain't I?_ " he cries even harder.

I pull him to my breast and let him weep. His flaccid penis rests lazily upon my pelvic mound. My body is full of nervous energy. I _need_ to shift him just a little bit. I _must_ or else I will surely die!

But I don't.

I look at Luna… and I know I am seeing anger in her eyes… but… there is also curiosity.

She lifts the blanket and gazes upon the evidence of our shared incest, and her pupils are gone. Her eyes are only darkness.

I lift him up and kiss his cheek.

" _Go to bed, Lincy. Our love will keep your nightmares away._ "

He flees. And… a-and part of me believes he is not running from Hell… but from _me_.

I turn to my side and cry.

As Luna descends upon me to taste of my and Lincoln's sin, I am still crying.

As she moves and tastes of my own body, I shiver and quake, but my tears still never go away.

As I fall asleep, I am, for the first time in my life, scared of something far worse than going to Hell…

That I, Luan Loud, my one and only brother's older sister, his comforter, his rock…

Will not be able to resist my body's sinful desires…

And I will end up taking him to Hell with me.

I… pray to God… to kill me in my sleep, whatever my fate may be…

But in the morning, my eyes open and I am terrified to see the bland ceiling of my room once again.

I am terrified because… when I see him again… when I have him alone in my room…

I will not stop.

I will never stop.

Just one more sin is not often.

I…

I must have it all.

And the man on the radio sings, " _I'm so glad it's real._ "

* * *

 **Random proverb:  
**

A man that believes killing his body brings relief may turn to suicide...

A man that believes there is eternity after death may turn away from suicide...

A man that not only believes there is an eternity after death, but that suicide will bring damnation may turn to God...

And ask God to kill him.


	4. Just One Choice

**Author's Notes:**

There is a writer in this fandom that does not feel the need to warn their readers about potential traumatic content in a story. I won't say their name. But there are two scenarios I never wish to read. One night stands (which I make an exception for Flagg alone)... and abortion. And this person did not warn me about that. You see, it is very important to make things clear upfront. You never know when a person, like me, will read something and it will bother them months later. I have written a lot of controversial content, given a lot of crazy opinions... but I have never forced my personal beliefs on anyone. I won't even do that sneakily. So... yes... _you_ may feel that in a loudcest situation, the girls _must_ get abortions. But to me, that is not the case. Whatever you want to say about me, my heart belongs with children... especially the ones that have no political voice.

This story _will_ depict abortion. Not in this chapter... but soon. And it will be the one and only time I ever write it. It will not go how you expect it to go.

If you want my opinion on abortion... if you want to see what I see whenever I even _read that word_... then, continue following this story. If you do not want to read that content, then follow cautiously until I emblazon that warning at the top of an upcoming chapter.

FanBoy-Guest, I'm not sure. I have a few ideas in mind, but I've been trying to work them out better in my mind. Thank you for asking~

anonymous789, that is exactly what I tried to express with Luan. That proverb belongs to me actually. I developed it during my teenage years, and I felt it was appropriate to share at that point. And that's not insensitive at all! This is hard for me... and earlier this week I realized why it was so difficult. This isn't actually anything new for me, though. In a way, the words and style are coming to me easily... forcing my hands to type them down, that is the hard part.

SonAwesome, the mind can be a scary place. Tread carefully.

TheFoolishThief, it is difficult to understand without experiencing it. But you are correct. I am stipping them down to their humanity... and even deeper.

LL, I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter~ But if it ever becomes too much, I won't think any less of you (or anyone) if you decide to stop reading it. :)

Dear Guest, you haven't seen me write at my darkest level yet.

Hot Sauce, I don't think I want to write another prompt dealing with five sisters. But I think I might write something with the Lisa, Lucy, and Lily parts. Even maintaining your suggested ages. What do you think?

Flaggette, you know me too well. Sigh. I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: _The Loud House_ Copyright Nickelodeon (2018)

* * *

Chapter 4: Just One Choice

Dear readers, with me, the cast is set. There are five of us players dancing upon a stage.

I represent… resentment.

I hate God.

I hate that He exists.

I hate that He controls me, that He knows me, and that He sees everything I do.

I hate that my life is planned out for me… that I must obey my parents and my God.

I serve Him, but it is done with a heart of stone.

Where He leads me… I _don't_ want to follow.

My sister, Lori, represents acceptance and duty.

She is the one that will step up when things turn bad. She is the one that will resign herself to her fate. She is the one that will… even if it's the worst choice possible… do everything she can to obey God.

But she also represents compassion… and that sincere affection and loyalty in her very bones has led her to sin.

A person can only have one thing at the very top… one true love… and in that very delicate, tragic moment… Lori cast her lot with the sinners.

If she could, Lori would even take their place in Hell for them.

Too bad she can't.

Luna represents mistakes and temptation.

She will listen to God with half an ear. Her eyes will be drawn away to new things, enticing things. She will let things enter her mind, and fester away until they settle deep in her heart.

And once it comes down to it… she also represents passion at the expense of duty.

In this story, she is Lori's opposite.

In this story, if an obstacle is erected in passion's way… then, it will be destroyed.

Luna must be kept on a tight leash. She must exercise discipline.

But she won't.

Because Lori fell from grace, and she let Luna fall with her.

Luan represents logic and cunning.

She is the one that will question God. She is the one that will try to outsmart Him. She will weigh things in the balance and make her judgments with the best of her knowledge. Oftentimes, she forgets that emotions are real things that exist inside real people. Oftentimes, she can only see black and white… and a murky sea of grey.

And once she steps into the dank waters, she quickly loses her sight of right and wrong… and even humanity.

And then, there is Lincoln. In this story, he has no point of view.

For he represents… fear.

Not the kind that makes a man cry.

Not the kind that makes a woman throw herself in front of her child.

Not the kind that makes a child run away.

But the kind of fear that makes a man lay down and let himself die.

The kind of fear that causes a soul to wither away, like a sandstorm across the desert, until there is nothing left.

Lincoln needs constant support to fight his fears. He needs to be nurtured. Whenever he is frightened, he will first run to logic… in an effort to talk his fears away. Then, he will run to passion in the hope that righteous anger, soothing comfort, or melodic singing will distract him. He may also resign himself to his fate… and accept his worthlessness… his nothingness… until his very voice is lost.

And once that boy becomes a mute, he will fall into the arms of resentment.

And he will lay his head betwixt my breasts.

And against my heart he will wait… and he will die.

My family thinks I am stupid. My family does not value me in the grand scheme of things.

And that only fuels my subconscious power.

What they do not know is that I also represent… self-awareness.

And I… I alone… know what it is this author will do to us.

I resent knowing that, no matter the choices I make, he will guide my steps.

I hate God with a deep, burning passion.

But I hate the author even more.

Does the kind reader know my identity yet?

It's not like it matters. My family does not notice me until it is too late anyway.

Regardless of who I am, I know what the reader is waiting for…

For me to jump my brother.

For me to get pregnant.

Well, it is not going to happen.

I won't let it happen!

I would rather die than let that happen!

And even though my choices have never mattered, I still make them.

And I will always hate him.

Wondering which _him_ I am talking about now?

Heh, have fun learning things that are better off left unwritten.

* * *

I cannot count the days it has been since my sisters fell into sin.

I can only remember the anger I feel towards them.

I cannot recall the last time I have prayed to God.

And I don't really care.

I am standing at a doorway. It is dark outside, but I think the sun is beginning to come up.

I am peeking through a crack in the door, and I see my three sisters kneeling on the ground.

I turn my eyes away to protect their shame… because they are kneeling without their shirts on, without their bras… each are blindfolded to keep the others from seeing her naked body.

I wait until I hear a loud smacking sound, followed by a cry, and I shiver in disgust.

They are punishing themselves.

They believe that they can still save themselves if they just beat the sin out of their bodies.

I walk toward the steps and I laugh. Cruelly and harshly.

There was a time when I would have opened the door, ran to them, and peppered their sore bodies with tender kisses until my love sent the pain away…

But now I do not care.

Once I was a young, stupid girl… and now I am a bitter teen.

My sisters care more for themselves than they do others. They spend so much time before God… trying to gain His favor with worldly accomplishments, with effort, and with ceaseless prayers.

But it is all for nothing.

I stop at the bottom step.

I sigh.

No man may come to God, but through Christ. For every man has sinned. For every man is unrighteous.

He is… in every respect of the term… the only way.

And mankind may call upon Him… may accept Him and claim Him as their God… and be saved.

That… is a paraphrase of the Romans Road: a simple method of doctrinal evangelism.

If I were Lori, I would dutifully approach mankind with the Truth of God. I would be compassionate and helpful.

If I were Luna, I would target emotions, try to build a response to the message.

If I were Luan, I would make my case for God, engage the mind in a battle of beliefs.

Together, those three would make a formidable opponent on the battlefield.

But they lack one important part.

Me.

Awareness.

Without me they lose sight of an individual person's needs.

Without me they can't see anything but the big picture… they miss all of the little details.

When they exile me and try to handle things on their own… they walk a dangerous path.

Lori should have come to me. Luna should have confided in me. Luan should have turned Lincoln away and into my bosom.

But instead they scorned me.

I am the strongest.

I will not falter, will not stray, will not give in to the lust in my body.

As my sisters punish their bodies, I am going to my brother.

I may be angry. I may be hurting.

But I would rather die than let something happen to my brother.

Whether I am full of purest love and he is free as a bird…

Or I loathe the very air I breathe for keeping me alive and he is riddled with anxiety…

It does not matter.

For I love him most out of all my sisters.

* * *

We are lying side by side in the backyard.

The softness of the cotton blanket beneath my feet, hands, and head (for the rest of me is clothed) gives no comfort.

The heat of the sun above my head feels like ice on my bones.

The gentle breeze of a calm day scrapes across my face like knives.

I turn to the side and see him… my one and only brother… pure and undefiled in body…

But in mind, he is tortured ceaselessly.

Always dreaming of Hell.

Always fearing God does not love him.

Always scared… always hurting.

My fingers burn with fire… they ache to stroke his cheek.

And I crush that desire deep in my soul until it is snuffed out, like blowing a candle out with a breath of air.

I chose the backyard because anyone can see us. Because only a true idiot would rape her brother in broad daylight.

" _L-L-Leni…?_ " the boy softly speaks.

It is getting harder for him to express himself. He is suffering… he is losing.

I look into his haunted eyes and sigh.

"I know what they did to you, Lincy," I reply.

Tears instantly come to his eyes and he curls into a ball, shivering upon the blanket.

That fire returns to my fingers… and I redirect it.

There is nothing lusty about laying a hand on a broken soul's shoulder.

Right?

He trembles beneath my hand as it strokes his knobby joint, as my fingers mold across his sleeve and grip his upper arm.

He moves closer to me, hiding his face in my stomach. His knees rest against my thighs.

I look at him and he looks so small, so frail.

Like a tiny bluet in my palm…

And I am full of righteous anger because… I…

My hand drifts down to his palm, my fingers brush his thumb and knuckles.

My other hand goes into his snowy-white virgin hair and rubs soothingly into his scalp.

I turn my eyes up to heaven… beyond a gate… beyond a river… to a throne.

And I whisper, deep in my mind, my anger toward the One that must surely hate me.

Guess what? I hate You, too.

Guess what else?

 _I will not_ fuck _him!_

My body shivers as the coldness of that word ripples across my body like frigid water.

But I say it. Again and again. Daring God to strike me dead in that moment… to keep my body from doing what I will it _not to do!_

But He is silent. He does not care for me. Never has. Never will.

This boy lying against me has been abused by his sisters.

He has come to me in his time of need, when his voice is tiny and nearly extinguished.

And what can I do?

I fight. I fight it with everything I have.

But I can feel it deep inside me, like a dark beast surging through a forest, pushing down oak trees that lie in its path.

It cannot be stopped.

But I can redirect it.

I will not _fuck_ him.

But I will kiss him.

I will touch him.

I will make him do things to me that an eleven year old should not even know about.

I will come within _one slip_ of raping him, mind, body, and soul… but I will not go one step further.

While my other sisters punish themselves and subconsciously make plans to keep themselves from doing what they already know they will inevitably do… I will lie beside my brother in his time of need.

I will give him love and mercy because God will not do it.

I pick him up; the little ball of fear that he truly is; and I cradle him atop my chest. He is shaking; so very small and tender.

The pain I feel from his tears touching my hands is unimaginable.

I will make it stop.

Not for myself.

Not for this fire burning deep inside me.

But for my love for him will I walk the line between good and evil, obedience and sin… and I will scourge my own heart until it is nothing but ashes, just so he may live one more day with his voice.

My hands go to his cheeks.

I lift his face up to the sky, and my eyes behold the anxiety deep in his pupils.

I pull his mouth to mine and I let him lie against me… on my lips, my breasts, my very heart… I let him cry atop me until he has no more tears left to give.

" _I-I'm a-a-a monster…_ " is the only thing he can say. He speaks it against my warm lips. He speaks it as I lay him down and I slip over his body. He speaks it as my fingers dance inside his briefs and stroke his pain into pleasure.

But no matter what I do… no matter how many kisses I give him, how much love I show him… _no matter how close I walk the line_ … his crying won't stop.

And his voice grows ever softer.

I press my skirt-clad groin against his boyhood and thrust against him, but it does nothing.

" _I'm a monster,_ " he tells me.

The more I hear it, the angrier I become.

Until the love I feel for him crumbles into ash… and the comfort I show him turns into torture.

" _Isn't this what you want, you freak!?_ " I whisper to him as I slip the front of my skirt over his stomach.

" _Isn't this what your body needs, brother!?_ " I scream into his mouth as I slam our lips together… as I grind our bare sexes against his stomach.

" _Isn't this what God wants us to do!? To fuck each other like animals!?_ "

Tears spring from my eyes as I lift my hips up and my hand aims him at my entrance…

Because nothing else matters. Love. Hate. Good. Evil.

Not one damn thing has ever mattered nor ever will.

" _Look into my eyes and tell me you don't want this,_ " I tell the boy still shivering beneath me.

He looks at me with stricken eyes. And there is not one speck of an ember in his irises. He truly does not want this. He alone wants to, and could, resist this deep yearning.

It's a shame that it doesn't matter.

I press against him, taking him inch by inch until I am resting fully atop him. I can feel him throbbing and twitching inside me. I know what it means.

And even though my mind begs my hips not to move… they do. They raise and drop, fast and hard, until the boy's toes curl and his cries of pain turn into cries of pleasure.

I pause my motions to lie atop him and cradle his sex deep inside my body. Then, I grind forward and backward and side-to-side; twisting and bending until I feel his little hips start to press against me.

" _I knew you wanted this, pervert,_ " I taunt him; my hair wild, my eyes mad with hate.

Thrust, thrust, thrust. The boy is whining beneath me… begging me to stop with his tears, but also begging me to make him orgasm with his hips.

I look into his eyes and I grin with evil sin racing through my very blood.

" _Are you happy now, brother? Have I taken your fears away?_ "

But over and over again, all he says is " _monster, monster, monster,_ " and it makes me so angry.

I pull back a fist and pound it against his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.

" _Stop saying that._ You _are not the monster in this story!_ "

But he won't stop saying it.

And I won't stop hitting him. I won't stop thrusting. Even after he ejaculates inside my vagina, I keep thrusting; I keep pushing his sperm deeper into my womb as he gives me more and more.

I look at the sky, but the sun cannot be seen.

The horizon is grey with clouds.

I look at the tree, and it is deathly still.

The gentle wind has ceased to exist.

I feel the mixture of our body's fluids soaking into the cotton beneath us, and it infuriates me.

I will not fuck him.

I will not get pregnant.

I won't!

That is my choice!

This is my life!

I throw myself off of him as he finishes putting his sperm in me yet again, and I put my finger nails in my cheekbone and squeeze until I scream in agony.

I turn to my side, lying my head in the dirt, and I yell out my hatred for God until I can no longer breathe.

I reach up and pull the glasses off my head… and I look at the broken soul residing inside them… and I crush it between my fingers until the plastic and glass shatters and cuts deeply into my hand.

That _was_ my choice.

This _was_ my life.

But not one single choice I ever make in this life will ever matter.

My one and only brother… my precious Lincy… laid his head upon my breasts, rested his ear upon my heart… and died.

I turn to look at him, but he is silent and unmoving.

Do you know my name yet, dear reader?

I am Leni Loud… and from my point of view… this is the story of how I killed my family.

Some of you may expect Lincoln's voice to be heard in the next chapter, but do not waste your time.

His voice died with me.

And he will never speak again.


	5. Just One Voice

**Author's Notes:**

I am not sure what to say about this one, so I will let it speak for itself. I think there might be one or two more chapters left to go. This story is still just as tough as ever to write. I hope you can find some enjoyment in it... if it's possible.

 _Reader be advised : _A character goes to a clinic and thinks a long time on abortion. Rape is implicitly and explicitly depicted numerous times. Generally, this chapter is dark and depressing. Several characters have lost their will to live. Read at your own risk. If you enjoy the "religious theme" but would rather something more upbeat and sexy, then check out _Merry 'Cestmas!_ That one is much more enjoyable~

LL, feel free to hate anything about this you'd like. Thank you for reading anyway~

Gallifrey, to each their own opinion. An important part of this story is that every single character, deep down inside, truly values their own religious experience. This is depicting what happens once their "perfect world" is threatened by temptation. Though, at least one character would surely agree with you by the last line.

RandomLoud, I already wrote that first prompt. It's called _Merry 'Cestmas!_ haha! As for the second one, eh, I don't know. Though, my deal with Leni is simple. She is purity, innocence, naivety, and compassion. She actually embodies those very things in this story (and, to an extent, in _My Only Sunshine_ ). In both stories (though much more in this one), I have torn those outer layers of goodness away to reveal the burning evil residing underneath her angelic mask. I don't know... on one hand, it is truly horrifying to see something pure and untainted become dark and destructive. But on the other hand, it is something that mesmerizes me.

Dear Guest, take my hand and I will lead you to places where sunlight is frightened to go.

anonymous789, speculate all you want. This story is very much based on inner-thinking and I enjoy seeing what everyone thinks the characters are thinking. :)

Flaggette, yeah, I'm alive. Barely~ That chapter will be next, though, and I'm terrified of it. :( And actually, yeah, I think I could write something like that... especially since I didn't make your request into something really sexy. I'll have to repent and redeem myself, huh?

FanBoy-Guest, she broke the fourth wall only against me, specifically. Yes and no, she is more complicated and demented than rage alone. He _is_ dead... but in a spiritual sense. This chapter would likely explain it better. Actually... this is entirely inspired by events in my life, but they are not recent. And I feel the need to say that "incest," "rape," and "pregnancy" were not involved. But, in spirit at least, this story is more like a history book than it is fiction. So, as I told anon789 above, feel free to speculate all you want. :)

HangingSoul, yes.

Disclaimer: _The Loud House_ Copyright Nickelodeon (2018)

* * *

Chapter 5: Just One Voice

I watch him day to day as he grows colder to his family.

I watch him as he draws away from his friends, as he barely gets by in school, as he hides away in his room.

He never reads comics anymore. He never plays games.

He just lies on his bed, counting the specks on his ceiling endlessly.

Mother has asked me what happened to him, but I don't know.

Could it be that… that Luna went to _him_ instead of _me?_

No. She would never do that. She would have kept it contained to just us two. She must have. She needed to!

Imagine my surprise, then, as I walk into my room and there I see Leni, sitting on my own bed with furrowed eyebrows and fierce eyes.

" _I know what you did to Lincy._ "

My spine trembles in fear.

"N-no, you must be mis-" I stop the lie before it slips all the way out of my throat.

She stands up and comes to me.

" _When will your sinning stop, Lori? Wasn't raping Luna enough for you?_ "

I fall against Leni's bed and look into her face with tear-stained eyes.

" _I-i-it wasn't like that! I-it was consensual! She needed me… I-I needed her!_ "

She took another step toward me, her shoulders drawn back, her head held high.

" _Why didn't you come to me? You know that I will not sin._ "

She leans toward me; I am forced onto my back. My breath hitches.

" _I-I-I don't know! I swear!_ "

My dear sister puts her knee between my legs and lifts herself above me; trapping me onto the bed. I cannot turn away from her burning eyes. I cannot even breathe.

" _It is a sin to make an oath. Especially when you lie._ "

She drifts closer to me.

I can hardly see her through the tears in my eyes.

" _P-please, f-f-forgive me, Leni! I didn't mean for any of this to happen! Not to Luna, not to Lincoln, not to you!_ "

Her lips curl sideways.

" _It's too late for forgiveness._ "

It's too late.

Those three words are all I think about nowadays.

My sister took my lips… and much more… that day. She hates me; she told me so. She told me she didn't have a choice… she _had_ to have me, and she refused to give me a choice either.

Regardless of my own mental pain, the emotional turmoil I felt at Leni's passionate surrender to her hatred, my body responded to her ministrations.

In a way, yes, it is too late. My body has grown used to sin. My heart and mind are fragile and barely able to hold things together. Sometimes I feel like everything will fall apart… like a broken vase held together by cheap glue.

Just the other day, Lucy was listening to a song with Luna.

" _He will set your fields on fire!_ "

An old song, for sure; and one I always adored.

But not in that moment.

Right then, I felt a deep chill settle in my breast. I saw Luna's eyes and I knew she felt it, too.

We gave up whipping ourselves with rods.

We gave up taking turns straddling the others and laying a pillow over her nose and mouth.

We gave up digging our nails into our chests, where our sinful hearts raced with desire and passion.

Nothing was working!

Even if we were to crucify ourselves, our last thoughts would be of our sinful desires… and all would be for naught.

Then, one day, my sister, Luan, came to me. And she read to me a passage… about two daughters and their widowed father… and the girls felt they were alone in the world, with no husbands and families to care for… so they made their father drunk, and with him made their own families.

She looked into my eyes, pleading for an alternative answer to the lust festering in her soul like a bleeding pus.

But even eons would not have given me another answer to her begging.

There was only one way now.

It was too late to stop.

Too late to prevent just one more sin.

Too late… too late.

With those two words filtering through my mind, I find myself walking into a grocery store…

My feet walk toward an aisle on the side…

My eyes see a bottle…

My hands pick it up and cradle it beneath the folds of my skirt.

It is just one more sin.

Just one bottle… only one theft.

That is what I tell myself as I walk back home.

That is what I repeat in my head as I stuff the vile thing beneath my underwear with tears rushing down my cheeks, my neck.

 _It's just one more sin!_

 _Just one!_

With this, it will stop! It must!

Please, God… if you exist… _please, make this stop…!_

* * *

It has been a few days since Lori confessed her sins to us.

I and Luan.

For some reason she refuses to let Leni know of any of our actions.

For some reason Leni refuses to talk to me anymore.

For some reason I have not seen Lincoln step out of his room in days.

But we know what will happen. Our hearts beat strongly and surely for it.

Our minds do not even consider the consequences of our actions.

We do not think about making children.

We do not think about destroying our brother's mind.

We only think of the deep yearning inside our breasts… of the desire to know our brother as the only male that's ever been in our lives.

We do love him… we earnestly do.

But he is also accessible.

We can… w-we can give him alcohol… secretly, in his evening snack of cereal or something.

We can take turns with him, just as Lot's daughters did with him.

We can cure the sin in our bodies! We can fix ourselves!

And then, we will be a happy family again!

We will go to church. We will pray to God. We will sing and bow our heads and give thanks with cheerful hearts.

We will be good Christian girls.

All it takes is one sin. Just this one. Once, we will know our brother… and then, we will keep our virtue for our future husbands.

No one must know.

And God will surely understand why we must do this to our brother. He will forgive us out of necessity.

We can't help ourselves! We _must_ have him!

This yearning is turning my mind to mush.

I dream of him now.

I let my fingers linger on his arms.

I let my eyes drift across his boyish chest and sallow eyes.

I never notice how old my brother suddenly looks.

I never realize that he eats far less than is healthy.

I never take the time to ask why it is he walks with a bowed back… why it is his skin has turned pale and clammy.

He looks as if he has died… and I do not even know it.

I see past that… at the penis between his legs and what that means for my body. I look at his hands and imagine them touching me just as Lori and Luan's have done. I want his dark eyes to look upon my naked body. I want to give myself to him.

I want him… a-a-and I want him to want me!

I must be careful not to let anyone else notice this… but I let my brother see me sometimes. I walk into his room as he lies down and I knock down a trinket from his desk. I bend to reach it and turn my head toward him, my butt in the air, and smile.

Yesterday, with my skin literally burning with feverous passion, I could not stop myself from standing beside him and begging him for help.

I-I was having a "lady issue" and I lifted my skirt for him to see.

He wouldn't.

So, I… I turned his head toward me.

I made him look at my underwear, red-stained and disgusting, and I thrilled at the emotion dwelling inside his eyes.

…if only I realized then, what I would know much later…

…that it was deepest pain lurking in the shadowy depths of his pupils.

Lori, she took her turn first.

She couldn't go through with it.

I chastised her for it. It was the only time I ever whipped one of my sisters with a rod.

But she deserved it.

I told her that she must wait now… for me and Luan to take our own turns… and then, she can cure her sin with Lincoln's body.

Tonight… as the moon rises, the sun falls, and the stars rule over the heavenly night… I will bring my brother a glass of warm milk, sweetened with honey… and something else… and I will lie beside him, rubbing his hair until he falls asleep against my breast.

And under twilight's beauty, I will shed his body of his clothes. And I will remove my own.

I will slip under the covers and lie atop him, gently, supporting my weight so his body won't be sore in the morning.

I will look at his sleeping face. I will kiss his eyelids and speak my tender love to his sleeping ears, pleading for him to wake in the morning with a chest full of adoration for me.

My kisses will stroll down his naked chest, landing on every little inch like butterfly wings. I will nudge my nose against his strong member, and taste him just as I have tasted my own sister's core. I will take him into my mouth, and savor him slowly and passionately, until he awakens from his dreams…

And he will look down at me, only seeing my eyes… his penis fully sheathed between my lips, cradled by my burning tongue… and his voice will crack and whimper as I draw out his essence; drinking every last drop he gives me.

And once he looks upon me in purest love and devoted affection, I will inch upward and thread my fingers in his… and I will angle my hips so that his boyhood lines up with my girlhood… and we will consummate our familial love into something truly beautiful, breathtaking, soul-cleansing…

For surely my own brother's love will save me.

With every thrust he pumps inside of me, my heart will rest assured that my sin will be gone.

Just one more thrust… one more whimper… one more breathless gasp as I wrap my legs around his hips and lock him in place so he can release his sexual tension into my deepest core.

And once I have him in my arms, and he has made me his wife in body and spirit, then I will finally know a life with freedom and without sin.

* * *

Last night… was my turn.

I truly felt horrible…

Lincoln hadn't taken to alcohol like we had hoped. It made him irritable in the mornings. He complained of headaches and nausea… but he would only write his grumblings down.

He still refused to talk.

Luna hasn't been the same since she took her turn either.

She has been reserved… acting out of character… timid… a-almost _scared_.

I… I almost didn't go through with it. But I had to. I couldn't stop myself now… not after everything I had already done!

Lori walks around like a frightened mouse.

Luna stumbles into walls and trips over air; her mind absent and clouded.

It seems that… just as quickly as those two had stepped up to their sisterly duties… they had swiftly fallen victim to some sort of plague.

And myself… I don't know what I feel.

My brother was asleep. He didn't wake up like he did for Luna. He didn't spend an evening in uncomfortable silence, like he did with a cowardly Lori.

He was asleep and I could hear him speaking in a dream. It was the first time I remember hearing him speak in a long time. But he laid there… passive and unconscious… as I stole his innocence and virtue and made him ejaculate into my womb.

I didn't feel better.

So, I waited until he could get erect again and I made him have sex with me once more.

And again.

Again.

More and more.

Until the sun rose in the morning.

And now… in the evening… I realize that Lincoln never once stepped from his bedroom.

He never ate.

He never went to the restroom.

He… did nothing… all day.

All attempts to speak with him were met with silence.

Turning his door handle would reveal its locked state.

I am worried for him greatly. I truly am.

But… as the weeks slowly tick by… I… start to worry for myself.

Lori eventually had her turn again. And in the morning she refused to eat.

In my last conversation with her, she told me she felt hollow on the inside… like an oak tree that has rotted out.

She hasn't spoken to me since.

She hasn't visited Lincoln since then either.

Luna took another turn… only to grow just as deathly quiet and inactive as Lincoln. She never took another turn after that. She won't speak to me.

I find her lying under her blankets most days… always shivering, always covered in goosebumps… grey and sallow.

She looks like she's dying.

And I…

I never went into his room ever again.

Several more weeks later, I woke up feeling weird. But it was nothing out of the ordinary… or so I thought.

I remembered what I did with my brother.

And fear set into my bones until they became stiff and brittle.

I couldn't go to the school nurse.

I couldn't go to a store.

Everyone in this town knows my parents… they would spread rumors… create lies.

I… went to a place where I could be kept anonymous… at least for a little while.

To a clinic…

And it was in that lonely bathroom, half a year after my sexual desires were suddenly awakened by Luna, that my pregnancy test… lying in my shaking, pale hands… was positive.

And my eyes… immediately looked at the wall… where a little pamphlet was resting… with a handful of options I could choose from to help my situation.

See, dear reader, a Christian apologist… such as I… understands everything is based on assumptions.

And… while I know _deep in my soul_ that… t-t-that this… th-this baby inside my womb is a… a-a _life_ …

It's entirely too easy to… not assume its worth.

From… a constitutional point of view… he or she doesn't have personhood… therefore, he or she doesn't have rights.

Including the right to life.

My eyes clench tightly as my hands lift that pamphlet up and rest it on my lap.

Tears fall down my cheeks.

I never meant to get anyone killed.

I only wanted to abate the lust in my body.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

It wasn't fair!

It wasn't planned!

So, what if it happened because of my actions toward an unconscious male? Should I _really_ have to endure this tempest because of my sin?

Do I really need to carry a baby to term?

My parents would be furious.

I might be forced to leave.

I would be mocked and ridiculed.

I would lose my friends… and probably my family.

How is… i-is any of that fair… to _me!?_

I open my eyes and stare at that little booklet for what could have been hours as I sit on the toilet.

No one questions me as I step back toward the lobby and… and write my name down for a future appointment.

The nurse that helped me sign in is standing nearby, and when my eyes settle on hers… I see tears there.

I do not receive any emotional reaction from anyone else.

It seems it is just a regular part of the job at the clinic… letting underage girls decide the fate of living beings… all on their own. Without mother or father… without the baby's rightful dad…

Just me…

Just me and the ever-seeing eyes of God.

I leave the building and take off at a sprint toward home.

I do not make it; I fall into a tree in the park, and I cry.

My hand yearns to touch my stomach but I lash it against the tree.

The sudden burst of pain doesn't take my tears away… it only makes them worse.

When I return home, I see Lincoln.

And that fire I had felt inside my body… doesn't come back.

It is gone. For now anyway.

I go to my room.

And I lie on my bed.

Above me, my sister is coughing; her trembling is causing the bedframe to rattle… but I can do nothing to help her.

Finally, as darkness falls… I let my hand touch the bare skin of my stomach… where a precious seed of new life is growing…

And I scream into my arm as my nails dig into my flesh; as I scrape and claw until I start to bleed.

My appointment is in a week.

And that is how long this sin will remain inside of me… until it is purged… by death.

* * *

Darkness has spread across the landscape.

My nightgown flows behind me as a sharp gust of wind grazes across my body.

But I do not feel the cold.

I have developed an affinity for ice; the perfect counterpart to the raging fire of hatred that burns unceasingly in my breast.

My hand touches the bark on a tree, and the rough texture feels grating, resistant. I drag my smooth skin across the ridges and pull my hand back… only to be disappointed that it did not cut me.

Balling my hand up, I smack it against my thigh and step away.

Above me, the moon shines brightly as the clouds disperse, and for the first time I shiver… not because of the cold… but because the moon is watching me. Its silvery light shines through my very soul, revealing the deep places in my heart.

Tears burn in the edges of my vision as I turn around.

That damn tree is in front of me. Mocking me. Scorning me. Able to make me bleed, but refusing to do so.

With a harsh whine I lunge my leg forward, slamming my heel against it.

That satisfying sound of bark crunching, of flesh breaking, and that delightful feeling of blood smearing across the dirt as I put my weight upon my now-injured foot thrills me.

I turn to look back up at God… but I find the clouds have hidden His view.

Through the anger pooling in my head, I do not realize my logical mistake. I only feel rage.

I turn back toward our house and I step over to it.

But upon my journey, a faint sliver of moonlight breaks through the clouds and lights upon a gentle flower. An innocent rose.

And in my anger, I reach my hand through the thorns and branches… I clasp my fingers around that tender bloom… I pull it out.

I look down upon it, admiring the beauty of creation in all its splendor.

Then, I crush it in my palm; bloom, thorns, and all.

As I step into the house, the moonlight still looks down upon the ground…

Where a smashed rose lies upon the ground, covered in the blood of my ruined hand.

As I march up the stairs, my mind drifts into the void.

Time no longer means anything to me.

I feel old… so very old. Almost like I am timeless. Almost as if I have lost my sense of mortality.

Death is for those that are weaker than I.

At the very top, my eyes turn to the left.

I see my sister, Lori's door; guarding the prison to a mindless husk.

I see my sisters, Luna and Luan's door; both cold and shivering… dying… because they are too weak to do what must be done.

They are too weak to survive until the very end.

But I can.

But I _did._

I turn to the right and start for Lincoln's door.

What my sisters don't know is that I have visited my brother every single night.

If his shirt was to be lifted, they would see the bruises I have made on his chest.

If his pants were to be taken off, they would see the cuts my finger nails have made.

My brother is the weakest one of us all; unable to fight the demons inside his mind.

And I am his mistress; peppering his face with hateful kisses; sucking out his life-giving oxygen with my angry hugs; throwing him deeper and deeper into Hell with every single thrust of my hips against his.

Once upon a time, he fought me.

Once in a dream, he pleaded with me to stop.

But now he does nothing but lies still for me.

He would even let me break his bones, crush his hands, dislocate his joints… _anything!_ …because he is that weak.

In this house, things used to be repressed and subdued, but at least everyone had a voice.

But now it is my domain.

And I, Leni Loud, have the only voice that can be heard from the depths of this void.

I open his door and the shadows rush in, covering his room like a gaseous plague.

The moon is too scared to look through his curtains as I draw his blankets away from his unmoving body.

I look to the ceiling… to the sky… to God's very throne… and I smile as I straddle my brother's hips, with my nails digging into his throat.

He doesn't writhe under me, gasping for oxygen, as he once did.

His will to live is gone.

I am the only one keeping him alive now.

Forcing him to eat in the middle of the night.

Persuading him to drink water mixed with drops of my own blood.

I blow a kiss to God the Father, I wink at God the Son, and I salute God the Holy Spirit only moments before I sheath my brother inside my core once again.

My belly is distended with our child conceived out of hatred.

But I have no desire to destroy him or her just yet.

I will remain beside my brother until the last possible moment… until he draws his very last breath.

And as the darkness falls upon his world for the last time… I will pass on with him…

And drag our souls into the deepest pit of Hell.

Because the very idea of living in the same realm as the God that must surely hate me is so vile, so disgusting… that any fate… even endless torture and pain and agony, in a land where worms bury themselves inside our bodies and eat away at our very flesh and bones… would be better.

As my hands force my brother to pass out from lack of oxygen, I look to God one more time and I scream in pleasure and rage.

Because this is not the _kiss_ I wanted.

This is not the _touch_ I needed.

I never wanted to _dip_ my soul into sin.

It was never my _choice_ to corrupt my body… to taint my purity with my own brother's innocence.

But this is my _voice!_ And I will scream and cry in unimaginable pain until I fall to the ground. And I will cut at my clothes until they fall away in tattered shreds. And I will break my own body until I can no longer walk or breathe.

And I will beg God to kill me… to end the madness that is twisting my mind into an evil garden of desolation.

But He will not hear.

In the morning, I will awake. My hatred will be stronger. At night I will visit my brother once again and continue this dance of sin.

One day, I look in the mirror and I no longer see Leni Loud.

One night, I look in the mirror and I see darkness and misery and ice.

As my sisters slowly freeze up, wither away, and die…

As my brother lays on his bed, cradled by the demons living inside his mind…

I alone am able to walk around and talk to God.

I alone can pray and save them.

But I won't.

Because my compassion for my own body… for my own family… has shriveled up and turned into fading ash.

And with my voice I will commune with God beside the tree in our backyard, at the darkest part of twilight, and I will damn ourselves to an eternity of suffering.

Because I am no longer Leni Loud.

I am now Death, and in my weary arms will I cradle my brother's head until his neck falls slack and he gives up the ghost.


	6. Just One Death

**Author's Notes:**

I'm finally done with this abomination. Most of this chapter is self-explanatory.

 _Reader be advised_ _:_ depictions of Hell, death, suicide, and abortion (from the baby's perspective). Read at your own risk.

King69, in most stories it definitely would. And in my next update (likely a oneshot) there will be much good sin without any bad consequences. :3

XD, this story is the result of mental breakdowns in a sense, haha. But thank you~ Your thoughts were interesting to read as well.

Dear Guest, Flagg didn't request this. He asked for "repressed sisters" reluctantly having sex with their brother because they simply can't resist their lust. The first chapter was more like what he requested. Everything else was me. I write dark content sometimes; but I doubt I will go this dark again.

RandomLoud, those are some interesting ideas. Actually, I really love that idea of Leni seducing literally everyone. That sounds very fun~

LL, my views toward _**fictional**_ rape are mixed. On the one hand, it can be extremely hot ( _Merry 'Cestmas!_ ), and on the other, it can be devastating. Your thoughts were entertaining to read, though, and I'm glad you continued reading this. And, thanks, that is a high compliment. :)

Dear Guest, yes, Leni went insane.

Disclaimer: _The Loud House_ Copyright Nickelodeon (2018)

* * *

Chapter 6: Just One Death

The room is pitch black.

Not a thing can be seen.

A chair turns in its place.

A man's sullen face can be seen.

He bends his body straight, his back cracks and his joints snap.

He puts his arms onto the chair and lifts himself up on shaky legs.

He walks to a window and looks outside.

Nothing.

No light can be seen in this place…

In this deep and dark place where the light is terrified to go.

A bitter winds passes through the walls, making him shiver.

He turns toward the fourth wall.

He looks at the audience of readers.

And he smiles wanly, sickly.

"Darkness is something unique to every person."

He goes to a wall and leans against it.

"What each person hides in their deepest core is unique to them."

He bows his head and screws his eyes shut.

"What I am about to show you is something…"

Tears fall from his cheeks.

"…I can imagine no greater evil."

He looks at the readers, unknowing what else to say, and sighs.

"I have revealed more of myself than I would have liked while writing this abomination, but… what is one more sin? I might as well keep going."

He looks at his trembling hands.

"My body shakes as I write these very words down. My mind is haunted with thoughts and contemplations that will never leave me."

He looks again at his audience.

"I will give you this one final chance to turn away now… because beyond me is darkness… and in this darkness lies things that keep even me awake at night."

He moves to his chair, his bones frozen stiff and his arms trembling around his chest.

"If you haven't realized this by now… this isn't an ordinary fanfiction."

He pulls out a very small chest and lifts a key.

"Welcome to the dark mind of a broken soul."

He opens it and a thick haze engulfs the room until only his frail smile could be seen; his voice could be heard.

"Enjoy your stay."

Laughter erupts from the walls as the ground crumbles and falls into nothing.

* * *

I lift the knife to my neck once again as I do every morning.

I look at my sullen face in the mirror. I look haggard. I look like death.

I plaster a smile onto my cheeks, the knife cutting a fine cut by accident, and the combination only makes me look worse.

This is not the face of a Christian woman.

This is not the body of a spiritual teacher, a defender of children.

This is not the voice that belongs in a choir nor the eyes that should always be searching the skies for Christ's return.

This… I don't know what this is.

This… in the mirror… isn't Lori Loud. It isn't.

I throw the knife aside and fall to the ground, clutching my knees to my chest.

I don't know who this person is!

I don't know who this is controlling my body, running my mind, guiding my thoughts!

I look at my trembling hands and I clench them tightly.

They shake worse.

I slam my fists to the ground, and the burst of pain makes me cry in shock.

I take my nails and drag them across the carpet, across my wooden chair, across my own legs and breasts until they feel loose and weak and ready to fall out.

I fall backward, lying on the ground, and I weep even harder.

God can see me now. He can see me!

He knows me like no other!

He has seen what I have done to Luna… to Lincoln.

He can see what I hide in my heart… what I am too scared to think about.

That only terrifies me more.

I flip onto my stomach and brace my hands and knees on the floor.

It takes agonizing effort to lift myself up onto my hands and knees, and my weak body screams in pain and misery.

I see the glistening knife beside me, and I beg my hand to place it below my stomach… I beg my arms and legs to give out…

I push myself up to my feet. I fall against the desk and look into the mirror.

The woman I see before me isn't the Lori I have always known.

But she is me.

And I close my eyes and gasp for breath.

I pray the same thing I have prayed for the last several nights. Uncountable times.

"God… please…"

I look into the mirror once again…

"Forgive me…"

My hand touches the reflective surface, where my cheek would be…

"And then kill me so I may sin no more."

It takes me much longer than normal to get ready for church that morning.

My body moves mechanically.

My mouth speaks unknowingly.

I cannot remember anything, but my unconscious soul handles that for me.

I hold entire conversations with dear friends that I cannot remember only one hour later.

I hold a crying child to my breast and soothe their fears away… yet, I remember not their name.

The only thing I can think of is my prayer.

And in the early hours of dawn, as I step out of the house and walk to church early to prepare a free breakfast for the homeless in the community, that is the only thing on my heart.

As I walk around a corner, I do not look up.

I keep my head bowed, my eyes closed, and my lips ceaselessly moving in prayer.

When I do open my eyes, I see a van coming toward me.

And I hear my own voice speak to me in a silent plea, " _Please_."

I clasp my hands together behind my lower back. I stare straight ahead as my foot touches down on bare asphalt.

My lips are endlessly racing.

 _Forgive me._

My heart is pounding faster than it has ever before.

 _I will sin no more._

My ears hear the sound of screaming brakes.

 _Forgive me just this once_.

I open my arms to God.

 _And let me die._

And I blink my eyes open to see nothing.

I feel nothing.

I am resting.

I am at peace.

I sigh.

But it does not last.

The darkness slowly drifts away from me to reveal the presence of heat.

A cloak slowly drags across my body, and in fright I turn around to see a faceless man holding me in his strong grip. His black wings beat softly into the air.

I look down and I see fire and I see nothing and I see darkness; and the three mesh together so finely I cannot tell where one stops and the others start.

I open my mouth to speak to him, but I cannot move.

He drops me, and I fall.

But the flames catch me.

I try to swim away, but the darkness is endless.

I try to scream for my family, for my parents, for my brother, for my God… but nothing can hear me in this place.

I find myself a corner in the darkness.

I feel the fire licking at my feet, always burning but never consuming me.

I look up from where I came, and I can see them.

I clench my eyes tightly shut, but I cannot cry for my tears are gone.

I open my lips and I speak…

"God… please…"

I look up and I can see Him.

"…kill me and end this."

But He doesn't respond.

He cannot hear me.

And that is when it finally hits me.

As I fall to my face and bathe myself in a lake of fire and ash.

This is what I begged for…

My death.

* * *

My back screams in pain, and it feels hollow and sore… like something is inside me, but not inside me at the same time. I cannot roll onto my side. I cannot even open my eyes.

My body is ice.

I huddle under a pile of blankets, but I find no heat.

My thin hands drift into view, shaking from the constant chill, and I cannot even clench them shut.

I try.

And I cry because they can only make it halfway. They just… they stop. They cannot go anymore.

I try to move my toes, but they cannot wiggle.

I try to move my legs and arms, but they are leaden weights too heavy for me to lift.

I cough harshly and my back curls off the bed as I gag and vomit threatens to come up my throat. It won't go away. I keep hacking until it burns and I am sure I must be bleeding.

I turn and look for a cup of water, but there is none.

My head cannot turn back into its place. It sits there even after my spine begins to ache and beg for me to move.

My breathing is labored and ragged.

My eyes cannot close; cannot blink.

I feel the ice deep inside me. My heart does not beat. My lungs do not breathe. I cannot tell whether I am alive or dead, and I have not the energy to even care.

My entire life was a flame. Bright and passionate.

And my own desires led me to the edge of a cliff and I, manic as I am, jumped to see if I could fly…

And I found myself falling and hurtling, deeper and farther than I ever wanted to go.

Now… my flame is snuffed out.

I cannot muster the will to twitch my finger.

I cannot even pray in my mind for strength to rise and feed my dying corpse.

I close my eyes, knowing they may very well never open again…

And when they do, I will see a much different place.

I care nothing for my family anymore.

I care nothing for what I did to Lincoln, twice.

I beg not for repentance.

I cry not for mercy.

I deserve this slow, agonizing death.

I deserve to wither away to ashen bones.

When I was younger my greatest desire was to play music.

And now I have gained my wish; as my body's decay trills in the air like a silent flute, losing tempo, dropping in pitch…

One day I see my sister leave.

And I close my eyes.

And when I open them I see nothing.

At first I think it is nighttime.

But then I hear Lori.

Begging for death.

And I crawl toward her.

There is nothing here but darkness.

No light. No day. No sun. No fire.

I move at a snail's pace to the very edge of a cliff, and the dreadful sound of Lori tears into me like glass shards.

" _Don't let them die like me! Please, save them, God! Forgive them!_ "

I wet my lips and open my mouth, and speak, "L-Lori?"

And she screams in agony in reply.

" _No! Luna!_ "

I cannot see her.

But, what I do not know, is that she can see me.

What I do not know is that I am blind.

She screams louder, pleading for God to let me return.

Return where?

"L-Lori…"

" _Oh, God, Luna… w-why? WHY!?_ "

I don't understand, so I crawl farther, but the edge has no ending.

" _No, stop!_ "

I can't.

I need her.

I feel something I haven't felt in months.

Fear.

"Lori, I need you. Where are you?"

She cries for me.

" _I'm sorry, Luna. I'm sooo sorry. Forgive me! I'm sorry! Sorry!_ "

 _Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

Why?

I stretch my hand out, feeling nothing, and she screams at me to stop.

"I cannot stop, Lori. I need you. I have to get to you."

" _You can't! There's a gulf s-separating us. I-i-it's impassable._ "

I feel that tiny spark of passion inside me once more, not to prove her wrong, but to will my body to do the impossible to get to my sister.

I move my legs over the edge and lean forward.

" _Stop, please, Luna! I'm begging you to stop!_ "

I look in her direction, unseeing and crying for her… desiring to be in her arms more than anything else in this world.

"I need you, Lori."

She screams for me to stop, but I don't.

I stretch and reach farther and farther until I feel my body shift and jerk forward.

I feel a weightless sensation and my mouth opens to scream. My limbs flail and the deep ice inside me grows stronger with each passing second.

My sister's screams grow weaker until I can no longer hear them.

My screams are swallowed by the depths until I can no longer hear my own voice.

I am falling and falling, endlessly.

" _Lori!_ "

 _Save me!_

But she cannot hear me.

For the first time in months I plead to God to save me.

But He cannot hear me.

I fall and fall, farther away from my sister, into a place that is endless.

Each passing second makes the ice in my heart grow until I become stiff.

Soon I cannot breathe for the air is too cold.

Soon I cannot scream for I am dry and withered, and without water.

Soon my heart jerks inside me as I realize where I am.

I was once the brightest flame in my family.

And now I am in the darkest place of Hell.

My passion led me to jump, and like a fool I obeyed my urges.

And now I grow farther and farther away from my sister; unable to see anything; unable to touch ground; unable to even cry out in pain.

I hug my arms to my chest one moment before my muscles harden into stone.

And every second for one eternity, I hear my sister's voice in my mind… begging for me to stop… for me to listen to her… for God to save me…

And every second I fall deeper into the endless pit of Hell.

My name is Luna Loud.

This was the story of my eternal death.

Turn back now because it only gets worse.

A new voice will be heard…

…and it will scream louder than we ever could.

* * *

In the deepest darkness, a tiny flame flickers out of nothing.

It is incredibly small, but fluttering with life.

It beats to a sacred rhythm.

Bump.

Ba-bump.

Bump.

Ba-bump.

Two little hands reach out into the darkness and feel around.

Two little feet bend and curl, kicking with life and playfulness.

A little head dips and spins, two eyes looking across the vast void in awestruck wonder.

All around me, the gentle wave of life thrums with energy and comfort; washing over me, filling my ears, guiding my heart to the same rhythm and beat.

I twist and twirl without any care in the world.

The blood in my heart flows through my body, carrying precious oxygen to needful limbs and organs.

A gentle rush of vibrations crashes against me and I turn toward the noise, smiling in wonder as a soothing angel speaks from above.

A rhythmic hum cradles me and I thrill in ecstasy as that heavenly voice begins talking again.

I feel a shift in weight, but soon it's over and I return to my happy movements.

I am fully dependent on the angel watching over me. That blessed guardian that speaks and I listen. That voice, so calm and soothing; engrained into my mind as the source of all my comfort.

I am incredibly sensitive to the slightest motion, the faintest touch.

I can feel her heartbeat against me; I know what she is feeling.

Her sadness pours into me and it leaves me confused… makes me scared.

She trembles and I grow frantic in my movement.

My guardian angel is frightened. I must do something. Anything!

I grow terrified in an instant as she moves again.

I can hear her sniffling above me.

I can feel her moving, laying back, spreading her legs.

I move my eyes around but I cannot see beyond the darkness encasing me like a shield.

My angel twists suddenly.

I hear her scream, and my heart stops.

I feel her body get pushed down… get held in place.

I move faster, trying to get closer to her beating heart… deeper into her sacred place.

Then…

My home changes.

Something is here with me.

I look around. I cannot see.

My hands reach out and fist the air inside my bubble of safety. Nothing.

Then…

My bubble is pierced suddenly and I instantly open my mouth to scream.

But I cannot be heard inside this watertight cell of protection, designed to give me life, to keep me safe from any harm.

Something grabs my leg and I try to move away. I try to escape.

It twists suddenly, breaking my bones; tearing my flesh; pulling my limb from my living body.

I scream as my own blood begins to leave me in a gushing wave.

It rips my other leg from my torso and I feel lightheaded. I feel delirious.

I scream for my angel to save me.

I scream for her to reach down and protect me.

I scream for her… but she cannot hear me.

My hands grasp something sleek and cold moments before my own arms are torn from me like a stalk is ripped away from its roots.

I am crying in my final moments.

Something reaches around my chest… around my own beating heart.

And it suddenly squeezes me; crushing me; pulling my heart and lungs out of my body… one by one.

Finally, as my brain lives on its last few seconds of energy…

…my eyes blink as it sees two unholy arms reaching for my head…

And in the next moment I can see a bright and shining light.

I look down and see a pure white robe draped around my shoulders.

My arms and legs are here.

My heart is beating inside my chest.

I see a Man before me; His face shining like a sun; His clothes spotless and pure; His hands and feet pierced.

And even though I have never met Him before, I know what it is He has done for me.

I know what He saved me from.

I fall down to His feet and look at the ground.

He puts His arms around me and lifts me up.

I look into His eyes; He is smiling at me.

He speaks to me, "When your father and your mother forsake you, then I will take you up."

I cry and throw my arms around Him. I tremble against Him and thank Him; over and over again.

In life my mother did not even give me a name.

But this Man gave me a name. He gave me acceptance.

When the ones that I completely relied upon to protect me decided to murder me in my own cocoon of growth and safety, this Man received my soul in His arms and gave me new life.

I hear a beautiful choir begin singing, and I turn toward them.

I see billions of souls just like me.

Nameless.

Forsaken.

Completely devoted and trusting in their own guardian angels only to be murdered.

And I step into line with them… a line that grows by thousands with each passing day.

And together, we open our lips, and sing,

" _Someone will love me in Heaven; on that beautiful shore._

 _I won't be an orphan in glory; I'll live in God's care evermore_."

I never met my mother.

I know not her name.

I know not her face.

But I remember her voice. And even though she is responsible for my own death, her gentle, soothing voice is the only comfort I ever knew in my life on earth.

For all of eternity I hear her voice and it makes me sing.

For all of eternity I wait to see my mother step through those pearly gates.

I long to embrace her; to forgive her; to love her as a daughter.

I long to adore her; to hear her voice sing sweetly to me.

But for all of eternity…

She never came.

On earth she threw me away… a living soul; her own daughter…

And for all of eternity, the only thing I will ever have of my mother…

Is the voice that soothed my soul only moments before I died the most gruesome death imaginable.

* * *

I lean against the toilet, vomiting until blood pours from my mouth.

I fall down the stairs, feeling my bones crack and my joints snap.

I fall upon the water rushing down a stream in the woods…

And I look up with tears in my eyes.

I scream for my daughter.

I scream for God to let me have her once again; to let me give birth to her; to hold her and cherish her and love her.

I wade deeper into the stream.

I scream louder and louder; never stopping until the water has covered my lips and I am drowning.

I throw my arms out, hoping in my final seconds to be able to hold my daughter to my breast… to see her lips upon my chest and growing with milk from my own body… to see her take her first wobbly steps… to hear her say my name.

When I blink my eyes open I am kneeling on scorched earth.

Spines are protruding from a wall and into my back, making me bleed constantly but never letting me bleed out.

My wrists are shackled with fiery chains to an ashen wall.

Flame is dancing across me; burning me; making me scream in agony.

But the only thing that matters…

Is that I can see my beautiful daughter right in front of my eyes.

So close I could touch her if my hands were free.

She looks just like me, and a little bit like Lincoln.

I scream for her to look at me. I scream for her to let me see her eyes; to see her smile.

Tears fall until my eyes dry up and burn and crack.

I spend all of eternity trying to break free from my own chains; to reach out and touch my daughter.

I spend all of eternity screaming into coughing fits and pleading for God to let me hold her to my breast for just one minute.

I spend all of eternity seeing my daughter; and she never seeing me.

* * *

I step into my brother's room and I close the door.

Three of my sisters are dead.

And it has left me feeling weak… like three parts of my soul have parted from me.

Once upon a time I could walk easily and abused my brother with my hatred.

But now… now weakness has taken a toll on me.

Now… I struggle to go to him.

I started off like a raging fire, burning everything in my path.

And now I'm… afraid.

Without Lori… I don't feel a sense of purpose anymore.

Without Luna… I don't feel a desire to be angry.

Without Luan… I can't even rationalize in my head the demons that have begun to haunt me.

Above all things, I am empathy…

And once the only tragic sibling I have remaining is Lincoln…

The one riddled with fears.

…I quickly lost my rage… and I fell into depression.

I see my brother upon his bed.

Only his chest moves.

He hasn't eaten in days. Neither have I.

Without the other parts to my soul… without my dearest sisters… what am I?

I lean down to my brother and kiss his lips chastely.

I pull away and look at his grey skin.

He is sweating. His heart races. His breathing is ragged.

His anxieties never leave him now.

And I don't have the energy to fight them on my own.

I need my sisters… but it is too late.

It was always too late.

From the moment we entertained the thought of sin… we sealed our fate.

My arms and legs are thin.

My ribs poke through my skin.

My head feels light and hollow.

I get under the blanket and I snuggle against him.

I lay his head on my naked breasts and kiss his hair.

He whimpers and begins to cry; but cannot speak.

I massage his scalp until he falls asleep.

I open my lips and sing,

" _When I come to the river at the ending of day…_ "

I clasp his hand in mine.

" _When the last winds of sorrow have blown…_ "

I feel his pulse weaken. I feel his lungs cease, and his mouth gasps.

" _There'll be somebody waiting to show me the way…_ "

I close my eyes and feel my body grow cold and still.

" _I won't have to cross Jordan alone._ "

And, in each other's arms, we die.

* * *

In a dark, cold room, a man is standing.

He is surrounded by four walls.

A ghost steps out of his body and moves to the first wall.

He looks into the face of Lori, and he feels the misery of disappointment and failing in duty.

A second ghost steps out of his body and moves to the second wall.

He looks into the face of Luna, and he feels the coldness of a life without passion.

A third steps out of his body and moves to the third wall.

He looks into the face of Luan, and he has lost his ability to be sociable, to be intimate mentally.

A final ghost steps from his body and moves to the last wall.

And he looks into the face of Leni, and he falls to his knees as every drop of love and affection leaves him.

Kneeling on the floor between his four sisters is Lincoln…

His arms crossed over his chest; his body freezing and shivering; his mind a haze of fear and pain.

And a gentle wind drifts into the room, taking his four sisters away like leaves in an autumn breeze.

He tries to reach for them, but it is no use.

Crying and trembling, he hears metal scraping on the stone floor.

He looks up and sees a cloak of darkness approaching.

A skeletal hand points at his chest, and Lincoln shakes his head, "No."

Two bony hands lift a scythe into the air.

Lincoln clasps his hands to the only thing he has left in his soul… his very heart.

The metal slices through the air with a whistle.

And all was dark.

* * *

There is never an end.

Only nothing or everything, forevermore.

* * *

 **Final Notes:  
**

Medical details: Abortion took place during the second trimester (specifically, after 20 weeks). Method was dilation and evacuation (D & E). The number of nameless members of that choir was based on the Guttmacher Institute's yearly report on worldwide abortions (specifically, from 1973 to most recent).

I truly despise this story. If you didn't guess, the man is me. Needless to say, I had an interesting adolescence. Heh. This isn't entirely based on real events, obviously. But the order of sisters, what they represent, and my descriptions of Lincoln were entirely based on reality. If I had to choose a scene I liked most, it would be the one where Leni claimed she had become Death. That was truly beautiful to me.

My plans now are to continue with _A Woman After My Own Heart_ , and to write up several oneshots that I've been slowly developing. The first update will likely be a lewd oneshot where Lola gets cold and she needs a big strong man to keep her company... and I don't mean Lincy~ :3

Thank you to everyone that did read this.


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